


Human Nature

by Giroshane



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements, Tres leches, Violence, Werewolves, poor Manolo is the only human and he's about to find out in the worst way possible, there's other supernatural creatures but im not telling because its a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giroshane/pseuds/Giroshane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a month since Manolo and Maria (and Joaquin) were married, and to Manolo, it feels like he's reached the happy ending he's always dreamed of. But his spouses haven't been entirely honest with him, and with the full moon comes exposed secrets. He's not going to forget this adventure any time soon...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"I've heard whispers across the ship, Sister Josefine. The men talk of bad luck."

"They are sailors, Sister Francesca. Everything is bad luck to them." The older nun replied coolly.

"But Sister, they talk of _killing_." Sister Francesca lowered her voice at the word. Both were--relatively--alone, just outside the brig of the the ship, but fear made the nun extra wary; the small chest she held shook in her hands.

"We have bought their silence and their peace. Money means more to these men than their superstition. Give me the chest please."

Sister Francesca passed the chest over obediently, before sitting across from her fellow sister on a bench. In the lull of their conversation she could hear loud scrabbling from a cell, bars covered by a black blanket. An extremely large pig sat in front of it, bleating softly.

"I don't see why we should be dabbling with magic of this sort, Sister. She is changed now, she will be fine long before we reach port."

"Sí, in three weeks she will be fine." Sister Josefina nodded, shifting the large tome out of her lap to make room for the chest that replaced it. "But you forget how far away her home is from port. It will take another week to reach that town, and by then the cycle will begin again."

"Can't she handle it on her own? She has been trained, she knows what she must do in order to avoid calamity." Sister Francesca argued.

"At the speed of this ship, and the speed of the train, by the time she makes it home it will be the full moon again. How do you think she'll be received if her first day home she goes missing, then suddenly returns a few days later trying to claim nothing is wrong?" Sister Josefina posed, voice ever cool. When Sister Francesca did not have an answer, she continued.

"This charm should prevent her change once and only once. I have warned her that the side effects are severe, but not fatal. She should be able to pass it off as a simple illness. The consequences of the following shift she is very aware of and willing to deal with. This charm will give her a chance to settle down, and figure out the best course of action to take for every cycle."

In the quiet that followed her words, Sister Josefina opened the chest. She pulled out a stunning gold band, too wide to be anything but a belt, and inlaid with a number of precious stones--mostly blood-red garnets, alternated with glimmering opals. As she consulted the tome again a low howl came from the cell. It was whining, and achingly sad. The pig nosed the blanket covering the cell, as if trying to reach the beast inside.

"She is lonely." Sister Francesca murmured, with a touch of sympathy.

"She is trapped alone in a cell, of course she is lonely." Sister Josefina replied simply.

"Yes, but she has always been lonely. Even with the pack, her voice was so lonely. So sad." She sighed. "The pack never should have turned her in the first place."

"It is not our place to question the pack, Sister," Josefine cautioned, "and even if we were to question their motives, it is unlikely we would get an answer."

"How can you not question? She's just a child, Sister Josefine! A brilliant, lonely child!" Sister Francesca cried.

"Why do you think she is being sent home?" Sister Josefine finally looked up from her work. "They cannot change her back into what she once was, but they can make her at the very least happier. They know she has never been a true part of the pack, and they are not going to force a sister to stay when it hurts her so."

The howling picked up in volume.

"They know her true pack resides in San Ángel."

 

 


	2. Two Months Later

 

"Maria, me and Joaquin were heading to the market, do you want to--"

"Oh!" Maria was holding what had to be the most ornate piece of jewelry Manolo had ever seen in his life when he walked into their room. She jumped at his voice and immediately dropped the--necklace? It was so big, it couldn't be that--into the chest in her lap. Manolo had seen the chest once before, when Maria was moving her belongings into the Sanchez house; Manolo had assumed it was a jewelry box, but this was jewelry on a whole new level.

"Manolo! You startled me!" She gasped. Funny, he had never startled her before. It was almost impossible to scare her, actually. No one could ever manage to sneak up on her. Except for this instance, apparently.

"Sorry!...What is that?" Manolo couldn't help his curiosity.

"Oh, it's just--just an old family heirloom my mother gave me before I came home." Maria said quickly, practically slamming the chest shut. "It's very over-the-top, and hardly practical--I mean, it's a belt. It's pretty to look at, but certainly not something I'd ever wear."

"Really? Neat." Manolo grinned. "So, about the market...?"

"Oh of course!" Maria rose to her feet. She spoke as she carried the chest to the closet and tucked it away in a corner. "I...I actually need to talk to you and Joaquin about something, first."

"Alright. Come on then." Manolo headed off down the stairs, Maria following behind. Joaquin was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall in a picture of suavity. He perked up when he saw them.

"Oh good, she's in. If we leave now, we might be able to pick up some coconuts before they're all gone. Those things sell fast."

"You and coconuts, Joaquin. I swear, you're obsessed." Manolo teased.

"They're nuts, they're healthy!" Joaquin leapt to his own defense. "And they taste good! And besides," he whined, "I almost never got to have them when I was off traveling."

Manolo tried not to laugh at the man's face.

"Joaquin, coconuts are a fruit." Maria corrected him, giggling. She vanished into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with a basket in the crook of her arm.

"What? Nice try, Maria, I'm not that dumb. It ends with 'nut'. It's a nut." Joaquin's eye narrowed.

"Well I mean, with loose definitions it can be defined as a fruit, a nut, and a seed, but technically it's a drupe." Maria rattled off as the three headed for the door.

"What the hell is a drupe? That's not even a word." Joaquin argued, even as he courteously held the door open for them.

"Yes it is, Joaquin." Maria laughed. "A drupe is a kind of fruit with a hard covering around the seed."

"Alright, that seems pretty fake, but okay."

"It's true!" Maria insisted. The two argued back and forth over this all the way to the market, until Manolo finally piped up.

"Joaquin, remember when Maria got sick a couple weeks ago?"

"Yeah?"

"She had me read me a book on botany to put her to sleep. It worked, it knocked me right out," Manolo ignored the slap on his arm, "but I do remember the part about drupes. It's a thing, amor."

Joaquin stared at him dubiously, but let the matter drop.

The three split off, somewhat, after that. Joaquin wandered off towards a _fruit_ vendor, chagrin plain in his features; Maria headed more towards a few clothing vendors; Manolo himself went off to sit by the fountain. It was still early enough in the morning for the Rodriguez brothers to still be asleep in...well, somewhere. They would stop by the market later in the day to play for customers. For now, Manolo pulled his guitar off his back and relaxed. He didn't sing--his coffee hadn't kicked in yet--but he played a nice melody that floated through the town square. Often passersby would wave and say hello to him, or compliment him on his music; he would nod kindly in return.

It wasn't until Joaquin was by his side, several coconuts heavier, and the sun was almost at its peak that he remembered that Maria wanted to tell them something.

"Ay! Joaquin, get up!" He quickly stood and strapped his guitar onto his back.

"But I just sat down." Joaquin whined.

"Maria wanted to tell us something before we left for the market, but I guess we all forgot. Come on, we should go anyway--Maria usually meets us here by now."

Joaquin sighed, but followed suit.

"I wonder what's keeping her." He said.

They ended up finding her by a woman selling handcrafted jewelry. She was gazing at a particularly glimmering set of earrings, inlaid with red gemstones, as if in a trance. She was mumbling half-answers to the woman, who was quickly becoming disturbed by Maria's odd behavior. Joaquin and Manolo shared a confused glance before Manolo approached.

"Maria, are you alright?" He asked, laying a hand in her shoulder.

Again, she jumped as if startled.

"What? Oh Manolo! Sorry, I was just about to meet you guys at the fountain."

"Were you really? To me it looked like you were going to stare at those things until you fell into them.” Joaquin teased. Maria scowled, defensive.

“I was not. I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Well...do you want to buy them? They are very nice.” Manolo offered, nodding in appreciation to the woman. She was staring at Maria, face conveying that she wanted to know the answer to his question as much as he did.

“No, no,” Maria shook her head fervently, before turning to the woman. “Thank you, but no. Come on, boys.” She hurriedly walked away from the vendor, and if she heard the woman’s irritated sigh, she didn’t react. Manolo waved to the woman before he and Joaquin quickly followed after her.

“Maria, are you okay? You seem kind of off today.” Manolo asked. She was walking so fast he almost had to run to keep up.

“I’m perfectly fine.” She said in a way that did not sound fine at all.

“Does it have something to do with what you wanted to tell us?” Joaquin tried. He was having a much easier time keeping up with her than Manolo was. That is, until she stopped dead in her tracks, prompting Joaquin to stop dead in his, and Manolo crashed into him. They both stumbled as she gasped.

“Crap! I completely forgot I’m _so_ sorry. I can’t believe I forgot!” She smacked her forehead. Manolo rushed to comfort her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, querida! We’re not mad. We only just remembered too.”

“Well, Manolo remembered, I only learned about this a few minutes ago.” Joaquin specified.

“Again, I’m really sorry.” Maria repeated, calmer. She started walking again, slower so they could keep up. The three were already just outside the Sanchez home.

“So...what was the thing?” Manolo asked.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Her answer was abrupt. Maria didn’t seem inclined to tell them whatever she wanted to tell them until they were inside the house. As Manolo and Joaquin followed behind her, Joaquin turned to Manolo and mouthed ‘What’s going on?’. Manolo could only shrug in response.

“I’m leaving.” Maria said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

“What?” Both men spoke in unison.

“Just for a couple of days, to the next town over.” Maria explained.

“Why?” Joaquin asked.

“I just received a letter this morning, from Sister Helena--she was one of my teachers at the convent. She’s here on sabbatical, and she’s stopping in the town over on her way north. She’s not staying long, but she knew I was here and thought I might like to know.” They followed her into the kitchen.

“So you want to go and visit her?” Manolo guessed.

“Sí. She means a lot to me, she was so kind and helpful when I was in Spain.”

“Alright, well, if we let your father know we can probably head out tomorrow--” Joaquin started.

“Why would I need to tell my father?” Maria asked, eyes narrowing. Joaquin immediately tried to get himself out of the hot water he had placed himself in.

“Just so he knows where you are. I mean, he might get concerned if the three of us vanish for a couple of days. I mean, I think he’d want to know if one of his best soldiers is going out of town.”

“Who said anything about either of you going? I’m going alone.” Maria said, sounding more than a little irritated. Manolo and Joaquin shared another glance. Her moods seemed to be changing at the drop of a hat.

“That’s fine, Maria, you can go alone. We just assumed, that’s all.” He placated her. “We’ll help you get everything you need before you leave and we’ll see you off tomorrow morning.”

“I already have everything I need, I’m leaving tonight.”

“What!?” Both men cried, again in unison.

“You heard me.”

“Maria, that is _not_ safe.” Joaquin said sternly.

“It would take you all night to travel to the next town. Even if we defeated Chakal, there are still bandits out there. And coyotes. At the very least, if you’re leaving tonight, let us come with you.” Manolo added. He immediately realized his mistake, but it was far too late.

“You think I can’t handle myself?” Maria asked coldly. Manolo should have known better than to answer.

“N-no, it’s just--”

“Just what? It’s too _dangerous_ out there for little old me?” She snarled, slamming her basket on the table. “I’m sorry, last time I checked I wasn’t some pathetic waif!”

“Maria that’s not what I meant--”

“Really? Then what _did_ you mean, Manolo? _Please_ , enlighten me.” She gritted.

Joaquin piped up before Manolo could answer.

“Maria, let’s be rational here. It’s just not wise travelling alone in the desert at night, especially for someone like you.”

Oh, christ.

“ _Someone like me!?_ I have handed your ass to you on a platter and you think I can’t travel across a desert on my own?” Maria shouted. “ _Fuck. You._ Mondragon _._ ”

Both men opened their mouths, but she gestured sharply, making them flinch instead.

“ _No._ I’m done with _both_ of you.” She spat. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen. Her slamming footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house. Manolo made to follow after her, but her voice also echoed through the house.

“ _Don’t bother following me up!_ ”

Manolo and Joaquin stared up at the ceiling like they could see their spouse through it, completely dumbstruck.

“What is _wrong_ with her today?” Joaquin said. “Is she on her--”

His voice broke off in a high-pitched cry as Manolo jabbed his ribs.

“What was that for!?”

“Really? _That’s_ what you were about to suggest?” Manolo snapped.

“What? I was just saying--”

“ _Don’t_ say it. It’s gross.” Manolo rolled his eyes.

“What if it’s true?”

“Then it doesn’t invalidate her emotions, Joaquin. Go shove a coconut in your mouth, before you say something else stupid.” Manolo shoved the man lightly. Really, you’d think in the month since Maria returned Joaquin would have learned. Well, it wasn’t (just) Posada’s upbringing that made him say what he said--he was still very protective over the both of them, which Manolo could understand. But there were better reasons against Maria travelling alone than saying “it’s not wise for someone like you”.

Joaquin grumbled, heading for the door. Manolo cleared his throat.

“What?”

“You can shove a coconut in your mouth here, amor.” He gestured at the table, making it clear he wasn’t angry at the soldier.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Maria may be angry at both of us, but I have a feeling if the first things she sees when she comes back down is my face, things are not going to get better.” Joaquin replied. “I’ll stop by later though, okay?”

Manolo knew that wasn’t the case, but he nodded. He sighed when he heard the front door quietly open and shut.

For all Joaquin was a part of their relationship, and loved both Maria and Manolo as much as they loved him, he was still very hesitant about it. Or, at the very least, he refused to be intimate. No kissing (except for the super short ones after they whispered their vows to each other behind the church), definitely no sex, hell, Joaquin wouldn’t even stay over. They held hands, maybe a peck on the cheek if they were quick, but Joaquin didn’t ever seem to want to go further than that. Which is not something either Maria or Manolo would have minded in the slightest, if not for the fact that Joaquin kept dropping hints that he _did_. The constant flirting, the sweet (if rare) caresses, the unashamed looks--something was obviously holding the soldier back and Manolo wished he would just relax and admit whatever was bothering him. But no progress had been made so far.

With Joaquin gone and Maria fuming away, there was really no reason for Manolo to stay home. Shaking his head at whatever made the day that started out so well devolve into this, he adjusted his guitar on his back and headed out the door.

Maybe the Rodriguez brothers were playing in the square.

~~~~~~~~~~

Maria darted through the darkening streets of the town, staying in shadow as much as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest. She didn't have much time.

In a way she was lucky: she hadn't meant to flip out on her husbands like that, but doing so had basically driven them away. When neither of them came back near sunset, it only made it easier for her to sneak out. She left a note apologizing for her behavior with Chuy; when Manolo and Joaquin got home they would see it and hopefully not be too worried. Chuy had tried to follow after her, and she had to convince him to stay put: it wasn’t as safe alone in the desert as it was with the whole pack, and it wouldn’t be for too long anyway. Chuy had bleated, but reluctantly stayed behind.

It wasn't long before she reached the southwest docks at the edge of town, but it still felt like she wasn't moving fast enough. The sun seemed to be setting faster and faster, as if it didn't want her to make it. Maria knew it was just her own stress playing tricks on her but it didn't stop her heart from beating ever faster.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the small rowboat still tethered to the dock. She had no idea who it belonged to, but she had found it the other day when she was looking for a discreet way out of town. When she got to the far shore she would kick the boat back out into open water, and it would only appear as if the boat had accidentally been unmoored in the night. Then she would make her way to the large rocky outcrop, the closest one of many that smattered the desert, and then she would be safe. She would be safe, and the town would be safe. Manolo and Joaquin would be safe.

When she jumped in the boat, it creaked loudly and rocked, nearly tossing her out as punishment for her haste. The sound made her wince, but when she looked around there was no one to see or hear her. She untied the boat from the dock and started rowing.

She was only halfway across the water when she felt the tell-tale constriction in her chest, the pressure that felt like she was wearing a corset drawn too tight. She glanced at the sky: the moon was barely even that high. Her change was happening sooner than usual. She had even less time than she thought. She rowed even faster, oars splashing. The constriction in her chest did not mix well with the burning in her muscles, and she was panting for breath. A part of her wanted to stop and just drink from the lake her mouth got so dry, but the overwhelming desperation to reach the far shore and the large outcrop of rock about a mile beyond it kept her from doing so. Yet the closer she came the more the pain grew in intensity.

By the time she did reach the shore, she could barely think straight. The pain in her arms and her chest had spread to everywhere else and it was becoming worse and worse. She barely had the mind to take her poncho off and leave it in the boat--she'd need it for her return. She staggered towards the outcrop, gasping. As scattered as she was, she knew this wasn't normal. Shifting was never this bad. Why was it so awful? It was only when the first wave of fire lashed through her body, bringing her to her knees, that she remembered Sister Josefine's warning.

_"This charm will offset the change for a month, but only a month, and not remove it completely. Your next shift will come and go as usual, but the pain has only been postponed, as have all of your usual symptoms. You will instead feel them twice-fold when the cycle picks up again."_

Maria knew that was the price to pay, and she had willingly accepted it. Even now she didn't regret it. But fire lashed through her bones as they broke and reconnected over and over again and her skin rippled and stung in ways she had never felt before.

She couldn't stop the bloodcurdling scream that tore past her throat and into the cool winter moonlight.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Rodriguez brothers were sad to see Manolo go.

"Dude, it's barely even that late!"

"You've had like, one beer! How is that a party bro?"

"That one doesn't even count, he had it with dinner! That just ruins it, man!"

"Hermanos, hermanos, por favor." Manolo hushed the three. "I'd love to stay late with you, really, I would. But Maria hasn't been feeling well today and I want to make sure she's doing alright."

Pablo sniffed.

"He's so caring." He cooed with a smile. Manolo rolled his eyes.

"I wish my wife cared that much about me." Pancho sighed. Pablo shoved him.

"Stop lying about that man! You don't have a wife!"

"Do too!"

"Pfft, your horn doesn't count, bro." Pepe joined in. As the three settled into their bickering, Manolo took his leave.

He had been told, and it was true: it wasn't very late in the night at all. The moon was barely that high. Even if it wasn't though, it was still bright and as full as ever. Manolo smiled at the memory it brought him. The smile became a frown when he remembered that Maria wasn't happy with either him or Joaquin. That's why he had stayed out for so late, praying that with space Maria would cool down and feel better. He was still at a loss for what was making her act so outlandish. Maybe, just maybe though, a song to commemorate their one-month anniversary would make her feel better too. As long as she was still home.

Pulling his guitar off his back, he nitpicking-ly tuned it. It had to be perfect, after all. And the trip across town to his home would give him the perfect time to practice. He practiced a few of the chords before trying to play the whole song.

"Te amo y más..." He trailed off with a grumble. He had started with the wrong chord. Dammit. It's not like he hadn't played the song since that night. Maybe that one beer with dinner had had more of an effect on him than he thought. He started again, this time, he grinned with satisfaction, on the right note.

"Te amo y más, de lo que puedes imaginar, te amo ademas--"

Too focused on his guitar, he hadn't noticed the solid wall in front of him until he walked into it. He nearly fell back with a cry, but the wall whirled and caught him by his tie.

"Woah, careful there--oh, hey Manny." It wasn't a wall, it was Joaquin. The soldier helped pull him upright.

"Hola, Joaquin. Sorry about that."

"Ah, no problem at all. Just my duties as town hero. Fighting bandits, saving people from their own clumsiness, the usual." Joaquin winked teasingly. Manolo chuckled--the fact that the man still could accomplish (somewhat) the feat with only one eye was always a little ridiculous--but then he noticed Joaquin trying to secret away something behind his back. And the pungent smell. His eyes narrowed.

"Joaquin, is that what I think it is?"

Joaquin immediately became shifty in that way that just proved his guilt.

"N-no, not at all! I don't know--"

"Amor, you promised us you'd quit!" Manolo scolded. Joaquin sighed and dropped the act. He let the cigarette fall from his hands and stamped it out once it hit the ground.

"Lo siento, Manny. It's...it's a habit. It's not easy for me to break."

"How many have you had today?" Manolo eyed his husband suspiciously. He and Maria had been constantly nagging the soldier to quit the habit he had picked up on the road, but there had only been limited success.

"Oh, just the one." Joaquin answered just a bit too easily. When Manolo's stare didn't relent, Joaquin waffled, staring at the ground.

"One pack." He mumbled. Manolo sighed.

"At least it's not three."

"Cigarettes are easier to cut down on than cigars." Joaquin nodded. The two started walking again, in the direction of the Sanchez home. "They don't taste as good."

Manolo tutted.

"Neither are good for you, Joaquin."

"You'd be surp--"

Before the soldier could finish, a terrifying scream echoed through the air, stunning them to silence. They both knew that voice!

"Maria!"

They ran towards the scream, which wasn't coming from the bullring. It seemed to be coming from the lake, and not too far from where they were, either!

"Why would she be over here?" Joaquin asked as they bolted.

"I don't know!" Manolo answered. His guess was as good as Joaquin's. They were on the other side of town from the main gates, so why on earth would Maria be over here? This wasn't even in the direction of the next town over.

Their feet pounded on the docks.

"I don't see her!" Manolo gasped as they skidded to a halt.

"There! Across the lake!" Joaquin pointed. Sure enough, by the far shore there was a small rowboat.

"You don't think she--"

Another scream tore through the air.

"She did! We have to help her!" Manolo cried. His heart leapt in his chest. He'd never heard Maria in so much _agony_ before. Joaquin grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. He pointed to a neighboring dock.

"There's another rowboat over at that dock. You row across to where her boat is. I'm going to go get Plata and ride around." He ordered.

"What? That'll take too long!"

"Plata isn't called Plata for nothing, Manny!" The soldier was already turning on his heel and running off. "I'll meet you on the other side!"

Manolo was about to call after the soldier, but there was another scream, terrifying enough to send chills up and down his spine. He had to help Maria.

He would have to apologize later to whoever he was borrowing the boat from. It took him a few tries to get the hang of rowing again--being an islander meant he knew how, being a bullfighter meant he was very out of practice--but once he did he rowed as fast as he could. It was two more bloodcurdling screams before he knocked against the boat Maria had taken, and with each one he panicked more and more, although each scream was fainter and fainter. What was happening to Maria? What would make her scream like that? He had to find her. The thought of losing her again terrified him. As soon as wood knocked against wood he leapt out of the boat and into the shallow water.

"Maria!" He shouted. There was no reply. The light of the full moon only illuminated the desert so much, and Manolo couldn't make out any shape or form that could be Maria. He spotted a dark lump in the sand and ran for it--to his disappointment and increased panic it was just her poncho. He held it in his shaking hands. Why would she leave this behind?

Fast-approaching hoofbeats caught his attention and he quickly cinched the poncho around his waist. It didn't feel right leaving it behind.

True to Joaquin’s word, Plata skidded to a halt a few feet from shore. Joaquin hadn't even bothered to saddle her, riding completely bareback. He held two brilliantly shining lanterns in one hand. They illuminated the fear and worry in his features.

"Find her?"

"No." Manolo shook his head. Joaquin cursed, and lowered the lanterns towards the ground. He scrutinized the ground for something Manolo couldn't see. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he prompted Plata a few steps forward.

"There!" He cried. "Tracks! I can see her tracks!" He followed them for a feet before pausing. "They're headed towards the cliffs."

Why would Maria be going there? No one would try to go there on their own. Stretching out over the desert, it was an imposing sight during the night and the day. Unstable jagged mounds of rock piled all over the incline made an ever-changing maze of the place; it’s nickname was Trampa de Muerte, due to its danger. Besides the perilous rocks, there were cave systems that wanderers could easily get lost in, and often coyotes would make their home in them as well. And, of course, it went without saying that falling off the edge of the cliff meant certain death. Trampa de Muerte was a source of horror stories for children and adults alike--surely Maria would not have forgotten the danger of coming to this place. Maybe something was chasing her. Manolo shuddered. Joaquin turned to him, gesturing to the space behind him on the horse.

"Come on."

Manolo obediently climbed onto Plata, using Joaquin to pull himself up. The soldier didn't complain, but the horse did. Plata was notorious for being uncooperative or aggressive towards anyone but Joaquin (and even then, it wasn't until he was about sixteen when he stopped getting kicked). She whinnied and bucked a little, but calmed under Joaquin's murmured reassurance.

"Cálmate, Plata. Manolo es un amigo. Sólo por unos minutos, ni siquiera."

With that Joaquin kicked her into a gallop, Manolo holding onto his waist behind. Joaquin kept low and to the side, attempting to keep Maria’s tracks in sight.

“General Posada is readying the other soldiers--they heard the screaming too.” Joaquin said, loudly to be heard over the hoofbeats. “They’re on their way as well.”

Manolo dared to hope that reinforcements wouldn’t be needed on this occasion.

Halfway to the Trampa de Muerte Joaquin wordlessly brought Plata to a halt. He raised the lanterns high and in the light Manolo could see it: among the rest of the cacti of the desert, one in particular was not like the others. It was completely broken in half--the smell of the internal juices reached Manolo from where he was atop Plata. It was broken by something, there was no doubt as to that. Or by _someone_.

“Do you think she did that?” He asked. It was a large cactus. Maria wasn’t that large. But if she had run into it, then maybe. And it would certainly explain her screaming.

“I’m not sure.” Joaquin took a deep breath. His eyes narrowed, and he guided Plata with his legs closer, until they were right beside it. In brighter light something glistened red. Manolo felt his stomach twist.

“Oh god.” He murmured, grip on Joaquin's waist tightening. “She’s hurt.”

Joaquin made no comment, only kicked Plata back into a gallop towards the Trampa de Muerte. It was barely more than a minute before they reached the base of the giant cliff. While the highest cliff stretched high to touch the sky, it’s base sank into the sand as if it extended far beneath. Joaquin dismounted first, then helped Manolo down. He passed a lantern and one of his swords to Manolo as he spoke.

“The tracks lead up into the cliffs.” He said grimly. He stared off into the climbing rocks. Hesitation and fear laced his next words. “Ruega a Dios que lo peor no ha sucedido.”

“Pray we don’t need these.” Manolo added, waving the sword a little. He started out onto the outcrop. “Maria!” His first call was tentative, and echoed in the night air. The gut-clenching silence that followed was never interrupted.

“Maria!” Joaquin tried, heading off towards another section of rocks.

“Wait, Joaquin.” The soldier obediently paused. “Shouldn’t we stay together? The last thing we need is for all three of us to get lost in here, especially when Maria might be hurt.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve navigated places like these before.” Joaquin answered. “We have a better chance of finding her if we split up. If one of us finds her, we’ll yell out. Should be able to hear each other here, the rocks echo the noise.”

Manolo still felt a little uncomfortable, but Joaquin was already off, yelling Maria’s name again. He might as well go off too.

“Maria!”

No response, save for Joaquin’s own shout. Both echoed one after the other through the rocks. Manolo kept his lantern high and his sword low. The moon illuminated everything, but the lantern illuminated it that much better. Manolo examined every shadow, every crevice in the rocks as he climbed higher and higher. The further from the base he climbed, the more isolated he felt. It wasn’t long before he could barely hear Joaquin’s calls. The soldier must have been wrong, the rocks absorbing their yells instead of amplifying them. Manolo’s grip on the sword tightened. The tip was nearly dragging on the ground, as Manolo wasn’t used to the weight. Joaquin’s blades were much heavier than Manolo’s estoques.

“Maria!”

He paused after every cry, listening for anything that could be Maria. For every cry that didn’t get a response he found it harder to keep calm. How far up the cliff could Maria be that she couldn’t hear him or Joaquin? What if she was unconscious? How would they ever find her then? His calls started to waver with desperation.

“Maria!”

In the routine pause to listen, Manolo finally heard something. A rustle, in the rocks around a corner. For a moment his heart soared. Then he heard something else--something like a growl. Manolo’s blood chilled.

“Maria?” He was much quieter now, and much more wary. He raised the sword, and he edged around the corner. His breath caught in his throat.

The first thing he made out in the lantern light was _fur_. Fur that stretched far higher than any coyote’s had the right to. This fur was too dark to be a coyote’s too, but wolves shouldn’t be this large either; hell, this... _thing_ was almost as tall as him, and that was without taking in its shoulders or head. The tail lashing in front of him was definitely like a wolf’s, and the low growls he was hearing were definitely like a wolf’s. _It must be distracted by a meal_...Manolo didn’t dare make a sound. He should have run, back the way he had came, back to Joaquin, but fear rooted him to the spot. His heart was in his throat because how could anything be this _massive_?

His eyes lowered and he couldn’t stop his gasp. It was torn to shreds, but Manolo could make out the flower pattern of what used to be the shirt. And the bloodstains.

“Maria…” His fear was replaced with nothing but grief-stricken rage. All he could think of was the month before, when he thought he lost her but didn’t, when he traversed the afterlife and made deals with gods just to be reunited with her. It had only been a month and she was _gone_. Tears sprang to his eyes and he fought back a wail because _Maria couldn’t be gone_. Not here, not now, and not by this _monster_. He raised his sword higher, and in what was probably the (second) most poorly thought out choice of his life, he screamed.

“ _MARIA!_ ”

He lunged, but the beast was too fast and whirled on him with a snarl. He saw claws glint in the lantern light and barely had time to raise his arm to the level of his eyes before claws sliced through his arm like butter. The lantern was torn from his hand and shattered on the ground. The force of the attack flung him backward as he screamed in fear and agony, sword falling from his other hand. The monster bore down on him, and he scrambled away until his back hit rock and he couldn’t escape. It towered over him, bloody teeth shining in the dying candlelight of the lantern. Its breath blew hot in his face. It was practically roaring in his ears, and all he could think of was Maria, torn from this world like he was about to be. Of Joaquin, who would only find their corpses, who would be left alone in the world like that awful day only a month ago, except this time for good.

“Joaquin…” He sobbed, eyes squeezing shut against the brutal death that awaited him. “Maria…”

...Nothing happened. No claws raking through him, no digging teeth. The beast wasn’t snarling anymore. Maybe it had sliced his throat open and he was already dead. But he didn’t hear the endless fiestas of the Land of the Remembered. He blinked his eyes open and cried out. It was still above him, inches away from him. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t safe. But...the monster wasn’t snarling, or baring its teeth at all. It had lowered its head a little to better look him in the eye, but other than that it wasn’t attacking him. The faint candlelight that had survived the lantern breaking illuminated its eyes brilliantly. They weren’t amber or yellow like in any other coyote Manolo had seen, but he had already established this wasn’t a coyote. Just a...very... _very_...large... _wolf_. With brown eyes that almost glowed orange in the candlelight.

It sniffed towards his injured arm and he recoiled with a whimper. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. When it sniffed towards him it showed its right shoulder, and the gasps were cut short. Its shoulder was bleeding, and up and down it, several cactus spines were sticking out of the fur. This is what had broken the cactus in the desert. But there hadn’t been any wolf tracks there, Joaquin would have seen them--hell, its paws were so big Manolo would have been able to see their tracks, for all he knew nothing about tracking--but there were just human tracks. _Maria’s_ tracks.

“Maria…” He whispered. The wolf perked a little at that, straightening and cocking its head. The orange-brown eyes that no normal wolf had...the dark fur that no normal wolf wore...Manolo swallowed.

“Maria?”

The wolf yipped quietly and shifted from side to side. It wore a positively guilty look on its face and that’s all the confirmation Manolo needed.

“ _Maria_?” His fear was quickly being taken over with shock. “ _You’re_ Maria?”

She yipped again and raised her head only to drop it again, kind of like a nod. Oh. Oh god. His wife. Was a wolf. His wife was a wolf. _Maria was a wolf._

“You’re a...you’re a…” Manolo breathed heavily. He cradled his injured arm against his chest and pushed himself shakily to his feet. He leaned against the rock behind him for support. “A wolf.”

Another yip, and this time she pointed her nose up at the moon. The full moon.

Oh, christ.

“A werewolf.”

 _Another_ yip.

_Maria was a werewolf._

Manolo felt very unsteady on his feet all of a sudden. Maybe he should have stayed on the ground. As it was, he was very grateful for the rock supporting him.

“You’re a werewolf...but you can understand me?” He panted, vision spinning a little. Werewolves were real. He figured he was open-minded to the idea of supernatural beings, what with finding out about gods like Xibalba and La Muerte, but... _Maria_...

Yip. Manolo supposed that was her way of saying yes. It made sense so far.

“You...you know who I am? You remember me, right?”

Yip.

“So why…?” He raised his injured arm a little, but it stung when he moved, so he kept it close to his chest.

Maria’s ears flattened against her skull, she whined and pawed the ground, a picture of canine guilt. She obviously felt bad about hurting Manolo--she hadn’t done it on purpose, then.

“Did I surprise you?” He guessed.

Yip. She nosed at the sword for a brief moment.

“You saw the sword and panicked.”

Yip.

“Sorry. I thought...heh,” He huffed a weak laugh at his original belief, that the wolf had killed Maria, not that the wolf _was_ Maria. He gestured to the wolf's mouth and teeth, still stained with blood. “I thought you had...that you had killed, well, _you._ ”

She licked her lips in an attempt to clean some of the blood away as she moved out of the way so Manolo could see what she had been paying attention to before he had startled her. He cringed.

“That used to be an animal, didn’t it?”

Yip.

“I thought you were a vegetarian.” Manolo raised an eyebrow at the wolf. She shook her shoulders as she yipped. Maybe that was her attempt at a shrug.

“...Vegetarian while human, carnivore while werewolf?” He asked. That got an enthusiastic yip. Manolo sighed, bringing up his uninjured hand to wipe it down his face. He had thought Maria’s angry outburst earlier in the day had been a drastic change to how lovely the morning had started, but this took the damn cake.

“You leaving town...that was an excuse to get away so you could hide.”

Yip.

“All the yelling and weird moods was just a symptom of what was to come.”

Yip.

“But...you came back from Spain during a full moon. Why weren’t you a werewolf then?”

Maria whined and pawed the air. It certainly wasn’t anything Manolo could easily interpret. Which made sense: any questions that were too complicated would be hard for Maria to explain when she couldn’t speak or gesture very effectively.

“I suppose I should just stick to yes or no questions, huh?”

Yip.

“Right,” He sighed, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His arm burned with pain and he risked a look down. Maria had clawed almost down to the bone, but since Manolo had raised his arm palm inward, she hadn’t cut the main vein. Still, three incredibly long, incredibly deep gashes stretched from his wrist to his elbow; that part of his jacket was shredded, and he was bleeding intensely enough that it was dripping onto the ground. “I need to take care of this. Then we’re getting Joaqu--”

“JOAAAQUIIINNN!”

A shadow flipped into the air above them and landed on the rocks gracefully, and suddenly the soldier was before them, lantern in hand and sword drawn.

“Manolo!” Joaquin cried, running for the guitarist. “Get away from him!” He yelled at Maria, throwing himself between her and Manolo. Right, he didn’t know it was Maria.

“Joaquin wai--”

Maria growled, low and loud, but backed away from Joaquin’s blade. All the gentleness she had shown Manolo was gone. Did she not recognize Joaquin?

“I heard you scream, I came running. Just in time too. Stay back!” He jabbed the sword at Maria. She growled again, hackles raised and teeth bared, pacing back and forth.

“Joaquin, wait! Don’t hurt her!” Manolo maneuvered out from behind the soldier and ran between the two.

“Manolo are you _insane_!?” Joaquin shouted. Manolo held out his good hand to halt the soldier. He couldn’t hold out his other to Maria, but she backed off ever so slightly when he fixed her with a stern look. He turned back to Joaquin.

“Joaquin, you can’t hurt her. She’s not just a wolf.”

“I can fucking _see_ that! That thing’s fucking huge!”

“Not a thing, Joaquin. Maria.” Manolo tried explaining.

“What?” Joaquin was very confused. “Manny, get away before it kills you!”

“ _Not it_. _She_. Joaquin, it’s Maria!”

“What?” The soldier said again. “Manny, you’re hurt, you’re not thinking straight! This monster killed Maria and it’ll kill you!” He gestured to the torn shirt on the ground for emphasis.

“No she won’t because it _is_ Maria! Joaquin, she’s a werewolf! _Look_ at her!” Manolo yelled. He could hear Maria growling behind him and a part of him wondered why she wasn’t calming down while most of him wanted to berate her because she _really_ wasn’t helping their case. Joaquin slowly set down his lantern, glare hard as flint and never leaving Maria’s.

“Manny,” He said slowly. His voice was pained and nerve-wracked. “I know you’ve just been through a lot. Maria is gone, and you’re very injured. Just, just come to me, okay? Just, slowly, get behind me.”

Manolo glowered. “No, Joaquin. She’s not going to hurt me. She didn’t mean to hurt me before, I just startled her, that’s all. This _is_ Maria, Joaquin. She’s a werewolf. It’s the full moon! And look at her. Have you ever seen a wolf with brown fur and orange eyes?”

Joaquin didn’t settle, and he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest. His nostrils were flaring.

“Manny--” He gritted.

“This is Maria, Joaquin.” Manolo repeated. Joaquin finally looked at Manolo, eyes filled with the same grief and fear that Manolo had felt only a minute or two earlier.

“Dammit, Manny.” He growled. Fast as lightning, he reached out to seize Manolo’s outstretched arm.

Big mistake.

Maria practically roared. She lunged.

“Maria don’t!” Manolo cried in vain as she shoved him out of the way and pounced on the soldier. Another sword was knocked to the ground. Manolo landed on his back and the jolt through his arm made him scream through his teeth. But he didn’t have time to writhe in pain. He had to stop Maria before she hurt Joaquin, or vice versa. But when he hurriedly pushed himself upright, neither was happening. Maria was still snarling, jaws wide and menacing, and Joaquin was below her...jaws also wide and menacing. Manolo could barely hear it under Maria but...but it was almost like a...a _hissing_ sound. And in the even brighter candlelight Manolo could make out... _fangs_.

With his own feral cry Joaquin shoved Maria up and away in a feat of inhuman strength. Maria landed with a surprised yelp on her side, and the soldier was back on his feet in no time. Manolo scrambled back to his feet too, and was running between the two again before things got any worse but also because he _needed_ to see Joaquin’s face.

“STOP! _STOP!_ ” He bellowed, voice carrying more power than either of his friends had ever heard before. Maria, back on her feet, was still extremely aggressive with the barest restraint, but she shrank back at his glare. He turned to Joaquin, and his glare softened away to...he didn’t know what. But his gaze was fixed on Joaquin’s teeth, still bared in a snarl as the soldier panted, still incredibly sharp. _Impossibly_ sharp. Joaquin’s canines had always been a little sharper than usual, but somehow they had elongated and looked far more dangerous now. When he noticed Manolo's stare he became fearful, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hands and backed away. Backed away into direct candlelight. If Manolo’s eyes weren’t wide enough, they widened even more. Joaquin’s eye, his pupil, it reflected in the light like an animal’s. It struck Manolo because he had seen it before. He had seen that reflection in Joaquin’s eyes, but it had only ever been a brief glance, brief enough that he always thought it was a trick of the light. This was not a brief glance, and this was not a trick of the light.

“Manny--I--I--” Joaquin stammered, muffled through his hands.

“Your eye…” Manolo murmured. Joaquin immediately gasped and stepped forward out of the light, but he was certainly too late for that. The two men stared at each other in burning silence. Joaquin...was he... _really_ …

Manolo held his injured, bleeding arm out to the soldier, despite how much it hurt him. Joaquin jolted away as if he had been electrocuted.

“Do you have a _death wish_ Manny!?” He shrieked. His hands shifted so he was pinching his nose shut as well.

Holy. Fucking. _Shit_.

“You are.” Manolo said, shock and incredulity coursing through him, cradling his arm back to his chest. “You _are_ a...a…”

Joaquin was staring at the ground now.

“You’re a vampire. You’re a _fucking_ vampire!” The shock and incredulity was quickly becoming something else.

Joaquin flinched.

“Y-yeah.” He mumbled.

“You’re a vampire! And you’re a werewolf!” He whirled on Maria, who was now waffling and whining nervously. His eyes burned with tears like they always did when he was angry, truly angry and he _hated_ it but he was _furious_. “ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ”

“M-manny, please--” Joaquin stuttered, but Manolo didn’t give him the chance, pivoting back to the soldier.

“ _You don’t get a please, cabrón._ ” Manolo hissed, the hurt and anger in his voice evident. “All those years together, you didn’t think to tell me? Our _childhoods_ , Joaquin! Were you planning on keeping it a secret forever!?”

“What else was I supposed to do, Manny?” Joaquin cried, trying to defend himself. His hands dropped, sharp teeth defined by the light. “I’m a vampire! A literal _fucking_ vampire! At best, you wouldn’t have believed me! At worst, you’d bring the whole town down on me! How could you expect me to take that risk!?”

“But even now? Joaquin, we’re _married_. This wasn’t something you could trust me with? _Us_ with?” Manolo pressed angrily. With that he turned to Maria.

“And _you_. Don’t you think telling us you’re a werewolf was a _little_ important?” He gestured to his injured arm for emphasis. “Just a _little_?”

Maria whined pathetically.

“Manny...it was in Spain.” Joaquin’s quiet words brought Manolo back to the soldier. “Whatever happened, whatever changed her...it was while she was in Spain. I would have smelled it when we were kids if it wasn’t. When she came back she smelled--I just thought it was because she liked animals--but then--tonight--”

“ _Smell_. Of fucking course. _Smell_.” Manolo spat. “So she didn’t change until Spain, but what about you, hm? Were you _‘turned’_ while off travelling or some shit?”

“N-no,” Joaquin admitted. He was still staring at the ground. “I-I was born. Dad’s side of the family. I’m--I’m t-technically half. It’s why I can go out in the sun and all. Sort of.”

Manolo ran his hand through his hair, weak laugh anything but humorous.

“Here I was playing from the heart for you, and neither of you could do the same.” He muttered bitterly. He could feel the tears running down his face and his anger was mixing with plain hurt. His hand fell limply at his side. “Jesús puta _mierda_.”

He didn’t miss Joaquin’s small intake of breath, the soldier's own hurt, nor Maria’s whimper.

“Manolo, I’m sorry. We’re both sorry. Please,” Joaquin pleaded, hesitantly stepping forward. There were tears in his voice too. “Manny, we’re both...we’re both _monsters_. How could we--”

“How could you think my love would be _anything but unconditional!?_ ” Manolo’s voice cracked, hands clenching into fists. At this point he was just trying not to sob. _Monsters_? That’s what they thought of themselves? Why would they ever expect _him_ to think that of them? Joaquin stepped back, stricken.

“Manny…”

Manolo felt hot breath on his shoulder and he jerked away from it. He didn’t want to be near either of them right now. He just...he needed air. He needed space. He needed to get away from all of this.

“ _Don’t touch me._ ” He hissed. “Just, just _leave me alone._ ”

He stalked off away from the two, leaving them stricken and still in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joaquin's fists kept clenching and unclenching as he tried to remind himself to breathe. But every breath felt shameful, like he shouldn't be breathing at all. Manolo's words had stabbed into him like knives. He muffled his own sob.

"Dammit Manny..." He sniffed. Not like the guitarist could hear him at all. Gods, why couldn't Manolo understand?

Joaquin wasn't a fool: he was a monster, he was dangerous. He was the stuff of nightmares, the kind of creature that got exorcised by a church or stabbed with a stake to the heart or lynched by a mob. Every day was torture for him because one misstep could literally destroy him, and how could he tell his lovers if he had been raised on the basis that he could trust no one? He could barely even trust his own mother! Secrets within secrets had been his entire life, and couldn't just be dismantled like that.

He felt cold wetness on his hand and he jerked away fearfully. Maria growled a little, but it wasn't angry--there was a bit of a bark in it, like she was exasperated. She still looked very sad, he could see it in her eyes--he still couldn't get over the fact that they were practically at the same height as his own, he was so used to having to look down to them--orange-brown and definitely Maria's. Instead of his hand she nosed his shoulder, which he allowed.

"We both have things to apologize for." He said quietly. Maria barked quietly, as if in agreement.

"I'm sorry for attacking you." He continued. "Your scent was so--so confusing. Like Maria but...not Maria, plus some strange dog I'd never smelled before. When I saw your blouse with the blood, I figured you--I don't know--you ate her and that's why I was confusing the scents."

Maria shook out her fur a little and nuzzled Joaquin again. She whined quietly. Tentatively Joaquin raised a hand, and pressed it into the dark fur behind her ear. She didn't protest.

"I guess it's the same with you, huh? Never smelled a vampire before, it probably wigged you out a bit, right?"

She huffed and nodded, as much as a wolf could nod.

"I'm sorry about that, too." He sighed, petting through the thick fur slowly. It was softer than he thought it would be. "I should have told you the truth. But I was scared. And you were scared too."

Maria huffed and shifted so she was facing him directly, and pressed her forehead gently to his. Joaquin backed away at first, still a little wary, but found the contact welcome, although her breath tickled his throat. He raised his other hand to the spot behind her other ear, fingers buried deep in fur and bringing her closer to him. After all, Manolo was right. Their love was unconditional, and they had been foolish to think otherwise. Joaquin tried not to think of the guitarist and his harsh words.

"It's funny," he murmured, "Or weird, I don't know. But you, you smell like--well like I said: Maria but not Maria. Like, the smell that’s uniquely Maria, you still have that, but every part of your scent that made you human is missing...if that explains it. It hurts my head a little, because a part of my brain keeps telling me you're Maria, another tells me you're not, and another..." His throat closed up a little. That was harder to admit. Maria pulled away to look at him curiously. He couldn't hide from those eyes, wolf or human. He swallowed.

"Another keeps telling me you're a meal." He admitted quietly. "In either form."

Maria sniffed and looked under her paw, which Joaquin took to mean 'But I'm a wolf. Vampires don't drink wolf blood.'

"I usually drink animal blood--I don't hurt people, not--not on p-purpose. Not any--" Joaquin cut himself off because even with all that'd happened tonight, there were still some things he wasn't ready to share. "When you're human, my restraint kicks in. I'm so used to animals now that...when I see you, like this, my first instinct is...well...dinner."

Maria sniffed again and Joaquin could practically hear the disdain in it. She bared her teeth in an impressive yawn, showing off a little: 'I doubt you could take me down.'

"Oh I’m sure you’re very strong,” Joaquin remembered how forcefully he’d been tackled to the ground, but he pressed on grimly, “but you'd be surprised, amor. How do you think I arm-wrestled a grizzly bear? It's..." He trailed off with another sigh. "It's okay. I'll be fine. I should...I should go."

He made to leave, back the way he had came, but Maria was suddenly winding around him, forcing him back around. She snorted at him before staring off in the direction Manolo had taken. Joaquin sighed again, a little more painfully.

"You're right." He grumbled. "We need to go after him. I--I can hear him," This was true. In the distance, up among the higher rocks, Joaquin could faintly make out Manolo's voice. The man was talking to himself, obviously still agitated, but Joaquin couldn't make out any specific words. Was Manolo throwing rocks? His hearing was only so strong. "You can probably hear him better than I can, though. I'm pretty sure werewolf trumps half-vampire."

Maria didn't respond, she was listening too intently. Joaquin watched as her eyes widened, and without warning she took off like a shot, barking, nearly bowling him over.

"Maria!" He called, quickly picking up his swords and chasing after her. She was much faster than he could ever hope to be, and he usually prided himself on his speed. She had already vanished in the rocks--he'd have to follow after her by scent and sound alone.

"Dammit, I hate dogs!" He griped as he broke into a full run. It immediately was followed by a chagrined: "That's not true. I love dogs, I've always loved dogs."

He hadn't caught up yet when he heard Manolo scream and the echoing slams of rock against rock. Oh no.

"Manolo!"

The run became a sprint.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Manolo managed to hold back any true break in his composure until he was fully out of sight of his spouses. As soon as the lantern light was faded and there was nothing but the moon, he screamed through his teeth and kicked the nearest rock. He let the tears flow unrestricted because what was the point of fighting them now?

A part of him knew that Joaquin and Maria had valid reasons for keeping their secrets. He knew that if he was a werewolf--or a vampire--he'd probably be wary about sharing that information himself. But the rest of him was tired, bleeding and just plain _pissed_. How could he not be trusted? Maybe not being able to be true to himself wasn't exactly comparable to hiding the fact that one drank blood, or changed every full moon, but dammit he had a little bit of empathy for the two. A shared fear of being honest. But then, that fear that he could empathize with is what kept them from telling him in the first place. But he had climbed through the afterlife for Maria, and he had sacrificed his life for Joaquin. Why would they ever think he'd turn on them after he'd been through all that, for them? _God_ this was just so _fucking frustrating_ and--just--oh just _fuck that rock in particular!_

" _Why?_ " He snapped as he kicked rock after rock. "Why does everything have to be _weird?_ "

He kicked rocks whenever he emphasized and ignored the tears that fell down his cheeks.

"Normal life in a normal town! Normal marriage and normal love--for the most part--no more _gods_ , no more _medals_ , no more _monsters_. The high life--the _fucking_ high life! But no. No of course not! 'Hola I'm a werewolf! Watch out for my _claws!_ '! 'Oh, I forgot to mention, I _drink blood_ and garlic is a no-no, because oh look at that, I'm a _fucking vampire!_ '"

Kicking rocks wasn't enough anymore and he picked up the nearest one and launched it with a yell. It sailed through the darkness and he only heard it land. He kicked and threw rocks as he kept venting.

"Was _this_ in the Book, Candlemaker!?" He shouted. "Was--No, of course it wasn't, because my pages are _blank_! They're blank! I just want _peace_ and a _normal life_ but that's not written down is it so fuck all! Because I'm so _fucking_ special! We're all so fucking _special_! My wife, my _wife's_ a _werewolf_! She _howls_ at the _moon_ once a month, how was that written, huh? And how was it written that, that my _husband_ is a _vampire_ , hm? How did you come up with that _kicker_!? And I'm--I'm a _zombie_! I'm a--"

He broke off mid-sentence. The rock in his hand slipped out of his fingers.

"...Zombie." A murmur. He fell back against a rock wall with a sigh.

He gave up the chance at a normal life the moment he told Xibalba _"with all my heart"_. Or maybe he just never had a chance at all.

"I overreacted, didn't I?" He mumbled to the moon. As he ran his hand down his face he had trouble believing that was true--what other reaction could he possibly have to finding out that Maria was a werewolf and Joaquin a vampire? But he felt like he had vented out everything, and all that was left in him was frustrated fatigue. "I should go back, before my arm falls off."

It's true, he never got the chance to wrap his arm, still cradled against his chest. Blood had soaked into his suit by now, definitely, he could feel it, wet and sticky against his skin. Looking down at his arm was a little sickening, but tempered by the fact that his blood glistened black in the moonlight, not red. The pain combined with his outburst was making him woozy. He quietly shifted the remains of that sleeve off the wound--they hung around his elbow in strips. As he unwrapped his cummerbund to make a makeshift bandage he absentmindedly kicked another rock. Instead of bouncing against rock, however, it echoed, as if falling down a hole. That caught his attention.

A few feet away from him was indeed a small hole, a cave he hadn't noticed before. He could only make it out thanks to the strong moonlight being swallowed up by its darkness. He stepped a little closer and suddenly his breath steamed in the air in front of him. He breathed again experimentally--again his breath steamed in the air. It wasn't quite cold enough for that yet, it never really got cold enough for that until a little later in winter. Maybe it was the altitude combined with the nighttime? But that didn't feel right.

He heard the clatter of rock and faint whispers behind him and whirled, to find nothing. Nothing that he could see.

"Who's there?" He called out. "Maria? Joaquin? You can come out. I'm not... _as_...angry, anymo--"

The rest was cut off as his world violently tilted and flung him back, tumbling head over heels towards the cave that was suddenly growing bigger. He tried to regain his footing but the tilt (where did the tilt even come from? The ground had been flat) was too steep and he rolled into the darkness. Something bent wrong and snapped as he tumbled and he screamed in agony. Not a few seconds after that his world flattened again and he slowed to a stop, dizzy and in more pain than ever.

"Fuck." He hissed, trying to push himself up to a sitting position with one hand. The agony was shooting up and down his right leg; he must have broken it. In the distance he heard barking. But even closer, only a few feet away from him, he heard growling. Deep, dangerous growling.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." He breathed, heart pounding. He scrambled back as best he could until his back hit a slope--the slope he had fell down. The barking grew closer, but something was shaking, shifting the rocks. Against better judgement he looked away from where the growling was coming from and up to the entrance he fell down; moonlight shone through it, but with that Manolo could see the small rocks and dust raining down around it as everything started to rumble. The barking grew loud and suddenly Maria was there, blocking the moonlight.

"Maria!" He yelled, as the growling in front of him picked up a notch. His world was starting to shake violently. Was this an earthquake!?

Maria launched herself into the cave with a snarl, and as the rumbling peaked in volume Manolo could hear, distantly, Joaquin.

"Manny! Maria don't! _No!_ " He was screaming. Then rocks came crashing down over the entrance, and Manolo was plunged into complete darkness.

“Maria! Maria!” He cried, shouting to be heard over the echo of the rocks. He could hear her growling--or was it whatever was down with them? No, that was definitely Maria's. The other growling was quieting, fading away. It must have been a coyote, scared off by Maria's size.

"Maria?"

Maria was still growling, pacing.

"Maria, it's alright, I think you scared it off--"

Suddenly shrieking filled the cave, the loudest thing he'd ever heard in his life. Maria started whining in pain; Manolo wailed as he covered his ears. The shrieking was terrifying, bloodcurdling enough to make him shudder. Even worse, it seemed to dig into his head and drag up his worst fears. Over and over again he saw that dreaded snake, saw Maria cold and limp, saw Joaquin impaled on Chakal's sword, saw his family wasting away in the Land of the Forgotten, all of it, all of them _gone_ , just _gone_. He couldn’t get rid of the images and it was driving his thoughts in frantic circles.

_Go away! Go away! No! No! They’re not gone, they’re not dead! No!_

They wouldn't go away and he couldn't make them go away and he felt like his reality was slipping apart. All he could do was wail and cower at the onslaught.

He didn't notice the whining grow distant, but suddenly hands were touching him gently, tugging his hands away from his ears. The shrieking had stopped.

"Sh, sh, it's okay, it's alright," Maria cooed, stroking his cheek gently, soothing his jerky, startled movements. Manolo immediately felt calmer, leaning into the touch. His shoulders shuddered with sobs. "I scared it off, everything's alright now."

Manolo couldn't see a thing in the dark, but just hearing Maria's voice was a relief. She wasn't dead, no one was dead. The memories and nightmares started to fade away. He didn't feel so crazed anymore. Maria was back, and she was safe.

Something didn't feel right about that...

"What _was_ that?" He asked, sniffing. He reached to the hand cupping his face. It was surprisingly cold, like ice. That didn't feel right either.

"A banshee."

"A...ban-shee? Isn’t that a...a..." Her hands may have been cool, but they were soothing, and _distracting_. He couldn’t think straight; he just found himself wanting more of that touch.

"A screaming ghost. Don't worry, I scared it off." Maria reassured him. He could feel her breath--that was cold too. But he wanted that closeness, although something was niggling the back of his head, something he couldn't place.

"But--but you were a werewolf. It's still--still the--full--full moon..." He trailed off with a distracted sigh as she began to stroke soft fingers along his throat, in the way that always made him shiver. She was starting to shift onto his lap, and Manolo should have minded that--his leg was broken after all--but the break was lower in his leg, so it couldn't be too bad, could it? Anything for more of that contact...

"I'm not sure, my sweet. Maybe it's because I can't see the full moon anymore. You're very stressed, you need to relax. I can help you with that," Maria murmured, tone almost inappropriately sultry, "I'll do anything you want..."

As inviting as that sounded, that one single misstep broke the spell.

"Ah. Right. Anything. That I want." Manolo repeated stiffly. This definitely wasn't Maria. He tried to calm the flooding panic in his chest because if this wasn't Maria, what was this thing? What would it do to him? What _could_ it do to him? Where was the real Maria? He swallowed.

"Oh sí, my sweet, sí," Not-Maria hummed. She was almost fully on his lap now. While her touch was achingly tempting, addictive even, his knowledge that it wasn't Maria trumped that easily. Still, her movements were definitely inspiring something low in his belly--but it sure as hell wasn't intentional! He had to get this thing off of him!

"You see," He tried to shift a little, move away from her, but sitting against the wall meant he was essentially pinned. "That? What you just called me? Maria doesn't call me that."

That gave the monster brief pause, but she recovered with an edge of confidence to her voice.

"Darling, you just found out I was a werewolf. There are some aspects of me you don't know yet. But I'm showing them to you now! I realized I was wrong, I should have told you everything."

"Do these aspects include giving me anything I want?" He didn't like the way one hand stayed on his throat, digging into his skin a little with nails sharper than usual, and the other trailed down his front, tenderly avoiding his arm, down lower and lower.

"Sí, my sweet, anything..." He couldn't see her face, but Not-Maria was barely an inch away from him now. He couldn't press his head back further against the wall to get away.

"Right, well, nice as that is," He grabbed the hand at the front of his pants, "there's a lot of reasons I love Maria. One of them being that she specifically _doesn't do that._ "

He shoved her off of him and he could hear her hit the ground with a surprised yelp. He wished he still had Joaquin’s sword, had some level of defense--more than that he wished hadn't broken his leg, so he could run away from this thing. She started to hiss, like a snake.

"You don't want a woman like that," her voice was not so kind or seductive anymore, although she was trying to be; although she spoke with his wife's voice she definitely didn't sound like Maria. She tried to come towards him again. "Not really, do you? You're a man, a man needs a good woman..."

"Ehhhhh," He shrugged, shimmying away from the sound of her voice, adrenaline making the pain in his leg bearable enough for him to move. He was trying to stall, because at this point he couldn't do much else. "Woman, man, both, neither, kind of depends--also depends on your definition of _need_..."

She hissed louder. Something about her began to glow, eerily outlining her. Something about her face wasn’t right at all, wasn’t even human, though he couldn’t make it out just yet. And her hands...didn’t look like hands anymore. They looked like _talons_.

"You are _mine_ , willing or not!" She cried, and she launched at him. He raised his arms to defend himself. He barely felt talons grace along his hand when loud snarling came out of nowhere and barreled into Not-Maria. Not-Maria screamed, and glowed brighter, and in that light Manolo could make out a furry silhouette. _Real_ Maria.

There was nothing but stuttered screaming and loud growling as the two practically wrestled on the ground. Manolo couldn't do anything to help, couldn't do anything but watch.

"His soul is mine! Mine!" The monster, still using Maria's voice, writhed free and crawled towards him, reaching out for him. Manolo could see its face now--and he cried out in fear because that wasn't a face at all--that was a skull. But not a skull like those of his family, it was something grotesque and mutilated and hair fell in limp strands around it and its teeth were unnaturally sharp.

Before it had a chance to touch him Maria seized it by the ankle and dragged it back. Not-Maria started to shriek again, but this time Maria was ready for it: she swiped at the creature's head and neck again and again. The shriek devolved into terrorized screams and Manolo closed his eyes; there was no blood, but it was still a brutal display. He didn't open his eyes again until only the sound of Maria's panting and his own breathing were left. When he did, there was no more glowing. He was back in complete darkness.

"Ma--" He swallowed nervously. "Maria?"

Yip.

"Is it gone?"

Yip.

Manolo slumped back against the wall with relief.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Maria made something like a groan and a snort, then she yipped again.

"You're not going to die, I take it."

Yip.

Another wave of relief passed through Manolo, but with it came exhaustion. Exhaustion from too much pain, and too much fear. He had used up his supply of adrenaline. Suddenly he felt his eyes burn and his shoulders shudder.

"T-Too much," he stuttered. "This is--this is too much. I just want to go home. Everything hurts and I just want to go home--"

He jumped a little when Maria nuzzled his head from the side of his uninjured arm, but he quickly reached up and fisted a hand in that soft fur, pulled her head closer so he could lean on her.

"I'm s-sorry," he sobbed, "I'm so sorry. This is all m-my fault. I shouldn't have--I shouldn't have run off like that, I shouldn't ha--"

Anything else he could say was cut off by fervent licking. Across his whole face. Maria was licking him to silence.

"Mff--" He tried to shove her away, but he couldn't do it singlehandedly. "Ma--stop-- _ew_ \--stop--"

When she stopped she nuzzled under his neck and laid down beside him. She whined a little, as if telling him to stop. Manolo sighed, sniffing a little as he wiped his face dry with his sleeve.

"It _was_ my fault, Mari--" She licked his chin as a warning. "Alright, alright! I'll stop!"

It was clear she wanted to snuggle into him, but with his injured arm still bleeding and in the way she just nosed his neck a little. It was cold and wet and tickled, and he couldn't help giggling.

"Maria, that tickles!" The giggle became a laugh when she didn't stop. He laughed and tried to shift away from her, but his movements jerked his leg.

"Ah! Ow!" He gasped. Maria immediately stopped and pulled away. There was a questioning whine.

"My leg," he gritted, touching it gingerly with his good hand. "I broke my leg..."

If he didn't set it, it would never heal right, but it was too dark and he only had one hand. Which also needed attention.

"Shit! I forgot to bandage this."

Before he could finish unwrapping his cummerbund (funny, the start of that task seemed so long ago) and pull it off his waist, Maria reached over and nosed the wound, making him hiss.

"Maria, don't do that!" He chided. "That hurts."

Maria shifted away--in fact, he heard her stand. He heard padding feet around his legs and then a thump as Maria laid down on his other side. The next thing he knew she was licking his arm. And it _hurt_.

"Ow!" He cried, jerking away. "What the hell, Maria? I'm not a meal!"

Maria growled and placed a heavy paw on his thigh and her head on his shoulder, effectively pinning him against the cave wall. Against his protests and weak struggles she kept licking his arm.

"Ow! _Ow!_ Maria that hurts!" He cried, whacking her with his good arm. "I don't care if my blood is tasty! I need it! Let me go!"

Maria growled again and kept licking, despite his cries of pain. When she finally pulled away, Manolo was fighting back tears. As soon as he had any give he wrenched his arm away from her, cradling it.

“That really hurt!” He yelled. “Why would you do that!? I’m not some sort of buffet line--” He cut off as his fingers danced gingerly along the wounds. His arm was slick with saliva, but not necessarily blood anymore. The ire in him quickly faded to guilt and shame.

“Oh...you were cleaning it.” She wasn’t trying to drink his blood at all (the more he thought about it, in fact, blood was more Joaquin’s thing--apparently--than hers). “I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...ah...thank you.”

Maria huffed, and moved back to his good side (or at least, the side of his good arm). She didn’t seem too upset, but in the dark he couldn’t be sure.

“I really am sorry. I shouldn't have hit you--I should have trusted you.” Manolo said as he ( _finally_ ) finished unwrapping his cummerbund. Maria made a strange sort of whine that he couldn’t define. He hoped that meant all was well.

He wrapped the piece of fabric around his arm as best he could, trying not to make too many pained noises. Whenever he did Maria whined a little in response. It still hurt to straighten his arm at all, so he undid his tie and fashioned it into a makeshift sling--that took a few minutes, as tying a knot singlehandedly in the dark was hard.

"That should work for now," he said, relaxing back against the wall. Maria shifted so she could rest her head on his lap without hurting either damaged limb. Her head was heavy, but he didn't mind. "My leg we can sort out when..."

Dread settled in his stomach like a dead weight. Unless Maria could dig them out or Joaquin could dig his way in, he and Maria were trapped in this cave. Indefinitely. He took a shuddering breath.

"We're...stuck." He said aloud. "We're completely stuck...in the dark. We can't see."

Maria snorted.

"Right, _I_ can't see. But neither of us know these caves, or where they lead, or if something... _else_...lives in them. So if we move there's a risk of us getting hurt or lost--especially since Joaquin and the brigade will probably be trying to dig us out from where we fell in. But even if they do...you're still a wolf." Manolo finished with a sigh. "Your cover would be blown."

Maria whimpered softly.

"To think this started out as a lovely morning at the market." He mumbled, absentmindedly stroking the top of Maria's head. It was a little soothing, actually, combing through the soft fur. After a moment of silence, he asked:

"How long will you stay like this? Bark the number?"

Maria barked twice.

"Two days? But--"

Maria grumbled. Then she lifted her head a little, and a quiet howl echoed through the cave.

"Why are you howling? There's no--oh. Moon. So...two nights? This night included?"

Yip.

"Great. I'm not sure if I want Joaquin to find us before or after. My leg hurts like a _bitch_ \--ah, sorry." Manolo apologized for using the term. Maria chortled and snuggled closer. Her head was pleasantly warm in his lap. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see...emphasis on _wait_."

The two sat in silence for a little while, Manolo stroking Maria's fur, until he spoke up again.

"How long have you _been_ like this? In years. Bark the number."

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

" _Six_?" He echoed incredulously. "You were turned into a werewolf when you were _twelve_?"

A forlorn yip.

"This happened at the convent?"

Maria whined.

"That's not a yes or no answer?"

She snorted. No, no it wasn't. Manolo would have to save it for later.

"I'm making a list, you know." He told the wolf matter-of-factly. "Of all the questions I'd like you to answer when you can talk to me again."

Maria huffed a canine laugh, and Manolo thought he could hear her tail thump against the cave floor. He sighed and relaxed as much as he could against the cave wall. He was sure there were more questions he wanted to ask, ones that Maria could answer, but he couldn't grasp them anymore. The darkness, Maria's warmth, the calming routine of stroking her head, all contributed to Manolo's sinking eyelids.

"Ma...Maria?" He sighed, blinking slowly. Just a little bit longer...

There was a quiet noise from the wolf. Manolo took it as his cue to keep going.

"I'm gonna--I think I'm gonna go to--to sleep--" he cut off in a loud yawn that made his jaw crack, "You won't be gone when I wake up, right? You'll be here?"

Maria yipped and snuggled into him just a little bit more, and it made him smile.

"Gracias, amor..." He murmured, falling asleep to the rhythm of his wife's breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~

She waited a little while, even after Manolo fell asleep, before shifting off of him. He moaned a little when she did, but other than that he didn't stir. Fear of waking him up kept her from nosing him comfortingly. Hopefully she would be back before he woke up, or else he'd be angry at her again. But they were going to be trapped down here for a while, in all likelihood. She had to find water, if possible.

She trotted off, sniffing. Manolo was right: she didn’t know these caves. But as long as she could smell Manolo, and the pungent scent of his blood (she understood why Manolo had been so angry when she’d licked it clean, because that was a pack practice, and Manolo was human, not pack, and humans didn’t think the same way), she’d be able to find her way back to him. She still felt incredibly guilty for hurting him in the first place. If she hadn’t been so surrounded by prey-smell she’d have noticed Manolo’s scent and she never would have attacked--but all she had seen was the glint of metal and every fiber of her being had screamed for her to defend herself. The same thing had occurred when Joaquin showed up: instinct had immediately told her he was enemy--he was monster, his kind hurt humans, and her kind was meant to protect humans. But he also carried that scent that was undeniably Joaquin--under the weird-but-pleasant fake-tree oil scent--the smell of horse and desert and leaf-smoke and cow-hide and cotton and metal--and human as well. Apparently she and Joaquin had confused each other similarly; she smelled like wolf and wild but also like paper and wax and prey-- _not_ prey--and flowers. At least, that's what her pack-sisters used to tell her. She ignored the pang of longing in her to be with them, to run with them and hunt with them and sing with them. They may have been the pack she was raised in, but they weren't her pack, not really. She had tried, and they had tried, but they were not pack, even when they were human. At least here, when she was human, she wasn't alone. And she would gladly be packless if it meant being with her mates. It was only for two nights a cycle after all. She shoved the longing away.

She sniffed along the cave wall until she realized she wasn't smelling water: she was smelling firestones. _Focus!_ She could sniff them out later. Water was more important. So was a stick maybe, unlikely as it would be to find one, to help splint Manolo's leg. He could probably use one of his outer pelts to tie it. He had so many of them, after all.

Unfortunately she couldn't smell anything like a stick--there was a faint smell of wood, but that came from Manolo. Instead she tried to smell for water. One would think being in a cave, less exposed to sunlight and other creatures, would make it easier to smell certain things. But the smell of firestones and dust and rock was so overwhelming she could hardly smell anything else. She growled in frustration. How were they going to survive down here if she couldn't find water? Suddenly a memory hit her:

_You are wolf, the pack-sister told her, when she was small and scared and confused by everything, You are superior. Sight, smell, taste, hearing, all will guide you better than ever before. And if one does not work? Well, try another..._

Shaking her head at herself for being so silly, she sat where she was. She slowed her breathing and let her eyes close. Instead of sight or smell she let all the sounds of the cave echo around her. At first all she could hear was rock against rock, but then--there! The faint but constant _drip-drip_ of water, the faint moan of wind! Hurriedly she followed after the sound, winding through the cave tunnel as it got louder and louder. She knew she reached her destination when she could feel dampness underfoot. Quickly dampness became full on wetness as water seeped over her paws. Had she found a lake in the cave? They were high up in the outcrop, that didn't seem likely. Again she heard the moan of wind and with it the burning smell of lightning and rain. Looking up, she yipped excitedly. There was a hole in the roof of the cave! It wasn't very large; she wouldn't be able to fit through it of she could reach it. But it was raining outside, and raining hard down the hole into the cave. The pool was made up of collected rainwater. She splashed in it giddily. Oh what luck! Finally, something managed to go right tonight.

She lapped up some of it, sneezing when she accidentally got some water up her nose. She sneezed in unison with a crash of thunder, and the combined noise made her jump. It echoed and faded through the cave. It wasn't just raining, it was a full on storm. A pang of sympathy went out to Joaquin, who was probably still trying to dig for them. Oh, but with that hole, Joaquin could lift them out! Brilliant...but how to have him find it? She doubted he would hear her if she howled right now, and even if he did, Manolo was right: she was still a wolf. She was still a wolf, and still a wolf she couldn't fit through the hole to begin with. So they would have to wait for the storm to pass, and for her to shift. Then there was the trouble of moving Manolo here with a broken leg.

Thoughts of her mate tamped her excitement. She should go be by him, make sure he was alright. The Cihuateteo that had attacked them had been the only monster she'd sensed, but these cave passages seemed long and winding, and who knew what else lurked in them. Reminded of her injuries, she was tempted to wash them in the falling rain. But then she'd be contaminating their only source of water, and the last thing Manolo needed was having any of Maria's blood in his body. Her tongue would suffice.

Memorizing the scent of lightning and rain and wet dust, and the sound of falling rain and thunder, she practically ran back to Manolo. She hoped she'd be able to communicate to him what she'd found in the dark when he woke up. Maybe she could figure out a way to bring water to him, so he wouldn't have to move right away.

He was still asleep when she reached him. The sound of his breathing was comforting, and so was his scent: wood and oil and dirt and bulls and spicy peppers (and just a little bit of her, she thought smugly). She thought about nuzzling in his lap again, but she didn't want to risk waking him up. Instead she laid down close, but not too close to her mate.

The monster had worsened the wound on her shoulder from when she crashed into that spine-tree. She hadn't removed any of the spines that stuck into her skin; the first thing she felt when she finished shifting was an all-consuming _hunger,_ hunger strong enough to make her ignore the pain. So hunting had come first, but not long after that Manolo had shown up.

Now she gently tried to pick out what spines she could reach with her teeth. Not an easy process: some of them were so tiny she just couldn't get a grip on them. Thankfully there weren't many to begin with--the Cihuateteo had scratched a few of them out. When she got most of them out she licked the wound clean. It would probably scar, another scar added to the litany that covered her body.

_“What is this from?” Manolo asked, fingers gracing lightly over a wide scar on her hip. His tone was a mixture of curiosity and concern._

_“Accident during fencing.” Maria lied, sighing at the touch. She very well couldn’t tell him it was from when she was bitten by a guajona she was reckless enough to try and take down on her own. “We accidentally grabbed sharpened blades instead of the blunt training ones.”_

_"Most of them are from fencing and Kung fu training, actually." She added, as his hands slipped a little lower._

_"That's a lot of accidents."_

_"Accidents; mistakes. I had to be bad before I became good." Her hands explored Manolo's own scars, stretching across his hips and thighs. "I think you can share the sentiment, guitarrista."_

She began cleaning her flank, where the monster had also managed to claw her.

She had a lot to explain to Manolo once she could speak again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Manolo woke up slowly, and nigh on painfully. Sleep seemed reluctant to let him go, and as every part of him started to ache--and his arm and leg started to throb--painless unconsciousness appeared preferable. He groaned and blinked, expecting light, only to find dark. For a moment he wondered if he was awake at all, but no: he hurt too much to still be asleep.

Slowly memories trickled in from the night before. Maria, a werewolf, and Joaquin a vampire. His arm almost being torn off and then his leg broken as he fell into a cave. Maria that turned out to be Not-Maria and tried to kill him, but real Maria saved him. It almost seemed like a nightmare, but the pain in his arm and leg only proved last night's events. He groaned again. That's when he remembered that he had fallen asleep with the warm weight of Maria's head on his lap. His lap was empty now.

"Maria?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep. He made Maria promise to be here when he woke up, would she really break that promise, after all that's happened? He cleared his throat and tried again. "Maria?"

After a brief pause there was a groggy groan from just a few feet away. He sighed with relief.

"There you are. I got scared for a second. Buenos días." He said as he heard scuffling and a loud yawn. "At least...I think it's morning. I hope it's morning."

He heard Maria shake out her sleep-weighted limbs. She walked over and nosed his head. He raised a hand to stroke her cheek.

"It's going to be a long day." He murmured. He couldn't hold back his own yawn then, and when he did he noticed how dry his mouth was. He swallowed, and that definitely didn't make things better.

"A real long day." He sighed, rubbing his face. "I don't suppose you can smell water anywhere, can you?"

He was not expecting Maria to start barking excitedly. He heard footfalls and her barking grew a little distant, then returned.

“Wait, you can actually smell water?” Manolo asked. Maria whined a little, then shifted forward and rubbed her ear on his face. It tickled and he held back a laugh.

“Oh, you can hear it?”

Yip.

“Ok...good. That’s good.” Manolo nodded. He stared up towards the blocked entrance they had fallen down. Or at least, where he thought the entrance was. “Joaquin is probably still digging for us up there. I don’t know if we should move from here. What if he makes it through?”

Maria yipped and ran a little ways away again. She barked and seemed to hop around.

“...Is there a way out? Is that why you’re excited?” Manolo gasped. If they could get out of here, they could make their way down the Trampa and to Joaquin, and to safety! Sort of. Tomorrow, when Maria was human again. But a way out was a way out!

Maria barked a little more quietly and trotted back to Manolo. She began to nudge his shoulder, as if wanting him to stand.

"You want to go now?" He asked, a little incredulous. "I don't think I can move."

His pain, shoved away at the distraction of the possibility of rescue, came to the forefront full force. Lashes of pain ran up and down his leg, and even twitching his foot hurt like hell. Walking, even with Maria's help, would be agonizing. Not only that, his arm was throbbing painfully. It really needed stitches if he ever had hope of it healing properly. Or it not getting infected. Manolo didn't let himself think in that direction.

"But I suppose if we go now, we won't have to worry about moving me later, when you're human again. It'll probably be easier for you to help me as you are. And I'm really thirsty." He reasoned, half to himself. Maria didn't make any noise. He sighed.

"Alright. We should go." He reached out for Maria. "This is not going to be fun at all."

He waited until he felt fur and solid wolf underneath his arm before shifting his good leg and trying to lever himself up. Maria slowly stood with him.

“Ow. Ow. Ow! Ow,” Manolo hissed, leaning almost entirely on her. His broken leg was slightly bent to keep it off the ground. He hopped a step, "OW! Owowowowow!"

Maria whined in sympathy. She seemed hesitant to move now.

"We're never going to get anywhere if we don't move, Maria," Manolo grunted. "I'm already up, we might as well go. Just...go slow, por favor."

The going was indeed very slow--excruciatingly slow. Manolo could only hop so far. At first he tried hopping in quick little bursts, but those jostled his broken leg awfully and he wound up fighting back tears. Larger hops still hurt, but not as much, so he stuck with those. His hand gripped tightly into Maria's fur for support, and she stayed by his side every step of the way. There wasn't much room for small talk--Manolo was too focused on staying upright and not being overwhelmed by the pain. So aside from his grunts and moans of pain, the thud of his foot hitting the ground, and Maria's sympathetic whines echoing through the cave tunnel, it was quiet.

Manolo could only go so far before the pain was just too much.

"Set me down," he panted, staggering a little, "Bájame, por favor. No--no puedo seguir adelante."

Maria quickly guided him to a wall, and between it and her he lowered himself down to the ground. He moaned: he felt woozy and lightheaded, he was damp with sweat and blood, and both of his injuries hurt more than ever. And now he was _really_ thirsty. And hungry.

"Please tell me," he said between gasps, "please tell me we're almost--we're almost there."

Maria made a low whining noise and laid down next to him. After a pause she nosed the top of his shoulder, then his hand, then his elbow.

"What is that supposed to mean? Three? Three what?" Manolo tried to translate. Maria snorted, then repeated the actions. Then she trailed her nose from his shoulder all the way to his elbow and stopped. It took him a minute before he thought of a possible interpretation.

"Wait, uh...so my shoulder is where we fell in, and my wrist is where the water is?" Manolo guessed.

Yip.

"And...my elbow is halfway between the two so....we're halfway there?"

Yip.

Manolo let his head fall back against the wall with a groan.

"That's better than nothing, I guess, but I need a break. I don’t think I’ll be able to do that again for a while.”

Maria rested her head in his lap again. It was a nice, comforting weight. Almost like a blanket. As he regained his breath and his energy Manolo stroked her head; when he heard her tail thumping he smiled. Even after everything, he was still glad she was happy. When he said his love was unconditional, he'd meant it: whether his wife be woman or wolf, he loved her with all his heart. _I will never stop loving you..._

“Te amo y más,” He sang suddenly, softly, “de lo que puedes imaginar. Te amo ademas, como nunca nadie jamas lo hará.”

Maria lifted her head, but she didn’t do anything, so he kept going, hand shifting so he was stroking her cheek. He hoped he was looking her in the eye.

“En esta canción, va mi corazón. Amor más que amor es el nuestro y te lo vengo a dar.” It was different, singing without his guitar, and the sound of his voice in the caves had an eerie reverberation to it, but that didn’t stop him. “Te miro y más... y más y más te quiero mirar. Te amo y sabrás puro sentimiento y no hay nada más. Y sueño llegar, a tu alma tocar. Amor mas que amor es el nuestro y te lo vengo a dar.”

“Ruego a Dios tenerte a mi ladooo--” He faltered a little as Maria suddenly started howling quietly, underneath him. It too was eerie in the cave, but it was beautiful as well. “--y entonces poderte abrazar. Si no estás aquí algo falta yo por ti pelearé hasta el final.”

Maria was trying very hard not to drown him out with her own singing, so neither of them noticed the faint, faint glow that began to stretch in veins through the cave.

“Y sueño llegar a tu alma tocar. Amor más que amor es el nuestro y te lo vengo a dar.”

Maria picked up in volume when Manolo did.

“Te amo y mas! Te amo y sabrás como nadie yo te amará! En estas canción, yo veo quien soy,” Maria was so excited by singing she sat up, head leaning back to howl to the sky they couldn’t see. Manolo tried not to laugh as he sang. “Amor más que amor es el mío y lo siento, amor más que amor es el _tuyo_ y presiento, amor más que amor es el nuestro, si tu me lo das!”

Maria kept howling even after Manolo stopped singing, and he did laugh this time.

“Woooooo!” He tried his own wolf howl, which just encouraged Maria to keep going. He could see now that under her throat and down her stomach, her fur was lighter brown than the rest. He couldn’t help but think it was adorable.

Wait a minute.

He could _see_.

Blinking rapidly, he looked around the cave. All through the walls were veins of flickering color, glowing brightly. Reds, blues, greens, oranges, whites, yellows, fiery rainbows lit up the cave.

“Dios mio,” He gasped, awestruck. Looking down, he saw that even the floor was glowing, and the wall he was leaning against was shining too. What was doing this? Was it…

“Maria?”

Maria stopped howling, and immediately the lights didn’t shine as brightly.

"Maria, you're doing this?" He gestured to the walls around them. She bounced, yipping once and eagerly sniffing along the walls. As she paced she started howling again, and just like that the veins were glowing brighter than ever.

"You are! Oh my god, you're--you're making the cave glow. That's amazing!" Manolo laughed. He scrutinized a vein that ran past his head. "Is this...I think this is opal. I had no idea you could find opal in here. I had no idea you could find opal in Mexico at all. That's...Maria this is incredible."

Maria stopped howling to lower her head and flatten her ears, tail wagging vigorously. She seemed, to Manolo's interpretation, bashful.

"You can make rocks glow--and as crazy as that is--it's nothing to be modest about." Manolo told her. "Have you always been able to do this?"

Yip.

"Wow." he grinned. The colors from the opals dappled Maria's fur with different shades of rich brown, and reflected in her eyes like fire. In the strange light she truly looked majestic. She was beautiful in every form.

Maria stared at him wide-eyed, frozen to the spot. Oh--he had said that out loud. Well, he meant it. Even though his cheeks burned he meant it with every fiber of his being.

She bounded over to him, and it was clear she wanted cuddle up to him, but she was ever-wary of his injuries. Instead she bounced by him yapping before eagerly licking his face.

“Ack!--Ma--bleck--” Once again, Manolo was helpless to stop her. "Can't--augh--Maria that's--gross!--”

He grumbled amicably when she finally backed off.

“I don’t need a bath from you, thank you very much. I--Hey!” She licked his hair. “What did I just say?”

Maria huffed repeatedly, which seemed to be her attempt at laughing. Good to know her personality hadn’t changed a bit. The thought reminded him of how her personality, well, _had_ changed a little bit, yesterday morning.

“Maria, does this making-gems-glow power have anything to do with how distracted you were by the jewelry at the market, and that weird belt at home?” He asked.

Yip.

“I didn’t realize wolves liked pretty rocks so much.” He chuckled, teasing her a little. “Maybe I should add 'why?' to the list too.”

Maria didn’t make any sound to that, but in the fading light of the opal he could see her tilt her head and roll her eyes a little. In the silence though, his stomach growled. Audibly.

“Ay,” Manolo mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, “We can’t seem to have any amount of fun before remembering the shit we’re in.”

Maria whined softly and butted his shoulder a little, trying to comfort him. If anything though, it made him restless. More than anything right now he wanted to be home, with both of his spouses by his side. The closer they got to that exit Maria found, the sooner that could become a reality. Or at least, the sooner he could get a drink.

"We should get moving." He grunted, starting shift his good leg under him. Maria made a nervous noise. "I'm rested up, I should be good. I'd like to have a drink before my mouth dries out completely."

As he bent over to adjust he managed to inhale a lungful of cave dust, which sent him into a coughing fit that dried his throat out even more. Maria whined worriedly.

“I’m--I’m okay, I’m o-k--kay,” Manolo hacked. He reached out blindly for Maria. “Just--just help me up.”

Maria continued to whine, but she did as she was told. It took a little longer than before to get Manolo back to a standing position, leaning more than ever on Maria. The opals had completely faded by then, plunging them into darkness once more. Again they travelled in relative silence, Manolo focused on staying balanced and overcoming the pain, and Maria focused on supporting him and leading them in the right direction. Every now and then she would pause, and he'd hear her sniff, or he'd hear nothing at all--which he took to mean she was listening. Whenever she did this he tried to listen too, for any sound of the outside, of water, or of anything dangerous. It was about an hour--at least, Manolo though it was about an hour--before he actually did hear something. It sounded like quiet pitter-patter.

"I think...I think I hear it. Is that water?" He asked, voice hoarse.

Yip. Manolo could feel a faint breeze on the back of his leg and knew Maria's tail was wagging. Not several hops later Manolo could make out faint light.

"Almost there..." He murmured. “Almost there…”

Even though the light was grew brighter and brighter as they got closer and closer, when they rounded a corner Manolo still felt blinded by the full on light. His fingers tightened their grip in Maria’s fur as he wobbled a little, blinking rapidly and trying to stay balanced.

As he tried to regain the ability of sight, his ears filled with the echoing sound of water falling. Maria seemed to be guiding him towards it. When he had blinked away the spots in his eyes, he squinted up at the source of the water.

There appeared to be a crevasse, not much wider than his shoulders, in the roof of the cave, that led directly to the outside. The caved moaned eerily as wind howled outside--ah, it was raining. That’s where the water was coming from.

“Ay, we made it.” Manolo sighed with relief. Maria helped him so he was directly in the water, and _lord_ did that feel nice. The rain was cold, but it was refreshing. He tilted his head back and let the raindrops fill his mouth. It was such a wonderful feeling, to have that dryness gone. He felt the twitch of muscles under fur and looked down to find Maria lapping at the water pooled around their feet.

“I supposed that’s easier for you than what I’m doing.” Manolo commented.

Yip.

Manolo chuckled, then went back to drinking as much rainwater as possible. The fall wasn’t too heavy, but judging by the size of the pool around them it had been raining hard at some point in the night.

“Aw, poor Joaquin,” He said, blinking raindrops out of his eyes as he stared up at the circle of pale gray sky. “He must be worrying himself sick out there. And he’s probably going to get sick too, in this weather...if vampires can get sick. Hm.”

Maria whimpered in agreement. When he’d about had his fill, he tugged lightly on her fur.

“Amor, can you help me sit? I think I’m okay for now.”

Maria listened, and guided him to a wall not too far away. When he was sitting once more he let himself relax completely.

"We made it," he repeated tiredly, "we're almost out of the woods. Or cave. Almost out of the cave."

Maria huffed a little, then stared back up at the hole. Manolo followed her gaze.

"It looks like it's daytime up there. It could even still be morning for all we know. We've got a while yet before we can start calling for Joaquin. I hope the rain stops by then, or else it'll be harder for him to hear us.”

After that, the two fell into silence. It was heavy though, it weighed down on both of them. Manolo could see it in the way Maria’s movements were jerky. Patience wasn’t really something either of them was good at, although no one would guess it at first glance. Well, perhaps it was because Manolo was restless. Not doing what he wanted. Usually he could be pretty patient. But now, with rescue so close and yet just out of reach, it was aggravating to sit and do nothing. And Maria, well, Maria was patient only when she wanted to be. Her patience could stretch for days or it could barely last a minute. She could wait, sit on something for ages, or be completely unable to hold anything in. Secrets were sometimes a 50/50 thing with her...Manolo frowned.

“Maria, were you ever going to tell me? Me and Joaquin?” He asked suddenly.

Maria completely froze. She didn’t respond and she definitely didn’t look at him and Manolo’s breath hitched.

“...You were going to tell us, right?” Manolo pressed. Maria turned away from him, and he just felt more hurt. Was that a no? Was she never planning to tell them the truth? He wanted a clear answer. He _needed_ a clear answer.

“Maria, answer me. Were you going to keep this a secret? Were you just going to vanish once a month and expect us to not be curious about it?”

Maria growled, low and quiet, and started to pace nervously, still refusing to face him. To give him an answer.

“It’s a yes or no question, Maria!” He snapped, trying to fight the tears that were creeping up on him again. “Were you going to hide this from us forever or not!”

Maria whirled on him with a vicious bark that made him jump. It wasn’t aggressive, though. Her ears were flat against her skull and her tail was between her legs. She paced erratically, grumbling and growling, almost like she was in pain. It frustrated Manolo to no end because _dammit_ he couldn’t figure out what she meant by _anything_ she was doing.

“That is not a straight answer!” He fired back, completely done with this. “You will bark once for yes, twice for no, and you will _answer my question. Please_.”

Maria glared at him for a moment, and for that moment the familiarity Manolo had seen in the wolf’s eyes since she’d slashed his arm was completely _gone_. He was staring at a wild animal again. But then her gaze dropped, and the wolf slumped. She plodded over slowly and laid down directly in front of him. She looked him straight in the eye and appeared to be trying to communicate something with him, not that he could figure it out. She barked once.

Twice.

And a third time. Manolo growled his frustration.

“Seriously, Maria? I make it easy and you _still_ can’t give me a clear answer?”

Maria only repeated the three barks.

“What’s that supposed to _mean_? Yes-no? No-yes? You were going to tell me but you weren’t?-- _Argh_ \--How _confusing_ can you get? _Mierda!_ ” He pounded his fist in the dirt and kicked with his good leg, practically like a child having a tantrum.

"I just want to be able to understand! I just want to know why…” He trailed off, slumping. Maria whined sadly at his feet and nudged his good foot. He buried his face in his hand. He had never pictured having such a communication barrier between the two of them, and he had never imagined it being this awful. Patience was a virtue Manolo couldn’t find right now and the time until Maria could talk to him seemed to stretch on forever. Yet he again couldn’t help but feel he overreacted.

“Just…” He sighed. “when you can talk again, please, promise me that’s the first question you’ll answer. The question at the top of the list, okay? Please? Do you promise?”

Yip.

“Gracias…”

Maria laid along his broken leg, careful not to touch it, facing him. She pressed her forehead to his and when she did, he reached up to hold her there. If Maria felt wetness on her fur she didn’t react to it. He pressed a kiss to the spot between her eyes.

“Lo siento...I’m sorry I keep yelling at you.”

Maria shifted back and licked his forehead, and this time, he didn’t protest. He simply pulled her back so they were close again.

“Dios, I’m so tired…” he murmured. Maria nuzzled him, and he nuzzled back, smiling weakly. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been awake and I’m tired…”

Maria pulled away with a small huff. She licked his forehead again, then started to nose behind him, shifting him off the wall.

“What are you doing?” He asked, leaning forward. “Do you want me to get up?”

Maris snorted and kept wiggling behind him. It seemed like she was trying to shimmy between him and the wall.

“Uh, here, I think I can move forward…” Using his good arm and leg he pushed himself forward a little, wincing at the jab of pain in his leg. But that was enough to allow Maria to fully settle between him and the wall. She bent around and pushed him back, so he was lying on her.

“Oh, that’s what you were doing.” He said, adjusting himself a little. Maria yipped and her tail wagged a little. Tentatively Manolo relaxed against her. Her fur was very soft, and she was a lot more comfortable than the wall, that was for sure. “Thank you.”

This time the silence that fell between them wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, as Manolo nestled into Maria’s fur and felt the rise and fall of her breathing, he felt really comfortable. Really comfortable…

He never even noticed he was falling asleep.

He did, however, notice when he was rudely awakened. By gravity slamming him flat on his back onto the ground.

“Ow!” He cried, blinking groggily. It was dark, extremely dark, and Maria had stood abruptly and walked away--that’s what had woken him up. Manolo pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“Maria? What the hell is going on?” He asked. He could barely make her out in the darkness--it was definitely nighttime now, and the only light came from the moonlight streaming down the crevasse into the cave--and it had stopped raining, too. The wolf didn’t respond to him at all. She trotted to a spot directly in the moonlight and sat, staring up at it.

“Maria, are you okay?” He tried again. Again no response. Maria simply stared up at the sliver of moonlight she could see. The light reflected almost blue on her fur. She sat, tense and alert and completely unreachable, no matter how many times Manolo called her name.

"Is this a wolf thing? I'm going to assume this is a wolf thing." Manolo gave up as he shifted himself back so he was leaning against the wall again. She didn't even respond when the pain in his leg made him gasp. "I'm definitely going to add this one to the list--"

He was cut off by loud howling as Maria tilted her head back. She howled to the moon, long and continuous--and _lonely_. It was like listening to a song, the emotions of the singer becoming tangible in the song, and everything that Maria seemed to feeling was loneliness. And _sadness_. It was so heartbreaking Manolo couldn't even find the words to speak. He had never heard Maria sound like that, so heartwrenchingly melancholy. He couldn't help but wonder...is this what it had been like for Maria? In Spain? If this happened at the convent surely she wasn't the only one, but if she was...wolves were pack creatures, he knew that. And as much as Maria was Maria when she was a wolf, she was still wolf. And here at the very least, she had no pack. She was alone.

But she wasn't! The more that howling filled his ears, the more Manolo wanted to stop it. That voice shouldn't be so sad or lonely, because she wasn't alone. She had Manolo and she had Joaquin, even though they weren't wolves like her. They would always stand by her side, through thick and thin. 'No retreat, no surrender!' was their motto, they were the unbreakable trio, they had always _been_ unbreakable, and they were pack. _They were pack_.

 _We are a pack_ , Manolo thought, desperate to go and comfort her but held back by his injuries. _We're your pack and we're not going anywhere._

Maybe it was because he couldn't touch her, maybe it was because he remembered how happy she was when he howled with her in the tunnels, or maybe it was because he was following some own basic instinct: he tilted his head back, cupped his hand to his mouth and howled. He howled and poured every positive emotion he could into it. He was nowhere near as loud as Maria, nor as beautiful, but his voice echoed with hers in the cave. She faltered for a moment, but only for a moment, then she resumed and Manolo could immediately hear the difference. Together they howled, to the moon and to each other and in some way to Joaquin and to the bond between the three of them. Manolo refused to leave her on her own, and every time her voice picked up his did as well. He howled and howled until his voice gave out. He didn’t have to worry, however, as Maria's song petered to a close not long after. It ended with a strange whine, and that final whine echoed through the cave eerily, growing fainter and fainter until there was nothing left but silence.

There was something primal, something raw in the act that filled Manolo with something he couldn’t describe, something powerful and grounding. His heart hammered in his chest like he had just ran a mile; instinctively his hand rested over it, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Maria…” He breathed, voice hoarse. He really needed some water now, but he needed to say this first. “Maria, as long as I’m here--”

He never got to finish what he was saying.

An agonized yelp tore through the air, and Maria practically jolted out of the moonlight, into the darkness. Manolo heard scrabbling and a loud thud, and the yelps and whines increased.

“Maria? Maria!” He cried. He couldn’t see her at all, but he could hear her writhing on the ground. Was something attacking her? He had to help her!  
Before he could try to move, she rolled back into the moonlight, just as a loud, sickening _snap_ filled the air, and he saw it. He saw her hind leg bend unnaturally and Maria barked her agony. She managed to get to her other three feet and staggered back out of the light.

 _Oh Gods_ , Manolo thought as his stomach flipped viciously, _She’s changing back._

If that’s really what it was, then there was nothing he could do--not anything that he knew of. But every cry of pain and torment that came from his love was like a dagger to his heart. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, practically clawing over his heart. His eyes were already blurring and his face was already wet.

“It’s okay, Maria, I’m here. I’m here,” He cooed desperately, over and over, “You’re going to make it through this, you’re going to be okay, just--just--” there was another loud snap that made Maria howl in pain and him shiver “--oh gods--just listen to my voice, amor. Tu eres fuerte, puedes hacerlo. I’m here. Estoy aquí, estoy aquí. Va a ser más pronto y estoy aquí para ti.”

He didn’t know if his words were any help at all, but slowly the whining and yelps became less...growling. Primal. Canine. Everytime he heard them the pitch was a little bit higher, a little bit smoother, a little bit more human. Finally, there was one last _snap_ and Maria screamed through her teeth. Then there was a much smaller thud, and nothing but panting. _Human_ panting.

“Ma...Maria? Are you...are you human again?” Manolo asked, tentatively. He didn’t know what he expected in response. What he got was a weak huff of what maybe was laughter, and:

“Woof.”

Manolo released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Maria was back. Maria was back and...chattering. He could hear it.

"Are you okay? Are you cold?" He asked.

"Ok-kay? R-relatively, yes. C-cold? Very." Her voice was hoarse and weak. She sounded exhausted. After what she just went through though, it wasn't a surprise.

"...Are you naked?"

"What do you think, Manolo?" Her words weren't harsh, just tired. Manolo supposed he was asking a silly question.

"Well, you could come over here," he offered, "I'm pretty sure I'm warmer than a cave floor--if you can move, that is." He added hastily.

"Oh it's n-not f-fun, but sí, I c-can move." Maria grunted. He heard her shift around on the ground.

"Oh!" Manolo smacked his forehead. "I also have your poncho. You left it in the desert and I found it."

"In the d-desert? I thought I l-left it in the b-boat." She said. He unwrapped it from around his waist and held it out to where he thought she was.

“Ah, no…”

“Well, I was r-really out of it by that p-point--t-too much pain...M-manny I c-can’t see you anymore. I d-don’t know where you are.”

“Oh, uh…” Manolo withdrew the poncho. “I guess, just...follow my voice. I’m against the wall, with my legs stretched out. Is this...does transforming like this always hurt so much?”

“N-no. That’s just b-because I d-didn’t shift last m-month.” She answered. Her voice sounded closer to him.

“You can hold back like that?”

“N-no. Sister Josefine m-made me a charm--that b-belt you saw. Holds b-back the shift, but postp-pones the pain. So I felt it d-double this time around.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. M-magic is a bitch like that. Has to have a consq-quence.”

Suddenly something grabbed his bad leg and he cried out. Immediately the hand withdrew.

“Sorry! S-sorry!” Maria shifted away from that leg. “I guess I f-found you.”

Her hand graced along his good leg until she was at the wall next to him. His vision was adjusted to the darkness and he could just make out her silhouette, which was reassuring. The last time he heard her but couldn't see her it hadn't been her at all. Tentatively he held the poncho to her. She took it and quickly put it on. The silence they fell into was awkward. Both had been through so much in so little time and now the communication barrier between them was gone, and neither of them knew what to say to each other. After a full minute of silence it was Maria who broke it.

"Is it...is it okay if I cuddle up with you for warmth?" Maria asked nervously. "It's--it's okay if you don't! I know you're probably angry--"

Manolo slipped his bad arm out of its sling, ignoring the pain to use both hands to grab her legs and pull them over his lap, then find her hips and seat her fully across in his lap. She started to say his name but he didn’t let her: he caressed her cheek gently before pulling her in for a kiss. It was far less appropriate for this situation than any kiss should be, but it was brief. There was just too much joy in him, relief at having her back, safe and alive. Instead of pulling away afterwards he pulled her closer, so her face was buried in the crook of his neck. Her arms warily wrapped around his neck and his good hand fell to rub gentle circles on her back. Another silence pervaded the cave before Maria mumbled into his neck. Manolo couldn’t make it out though.

“What?”

She pulled away to look at him even though they couldn’t see each other. Her hands cupped his face.

“Your question, you wanted me to answer it first, if I was ever going to tell you. I _was_ going to tell you. I was going to tell you both, I just--I didn’t know _when_. I didn’t want to tell you this time, because with the charm and everything I didn’t know how bad it was going to be.” The words started to fall from her lips with greater speed. “I was--I was just so scared and I didn’t know how you were going to react and I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, this wasn’t meant to happen, I never meant for this to happen, I should have told you right away--”

Manolo cut her off with another brief kiss.

“You said yourself you were scared.” He kept their foreheads pressed together. “I understand.”

“But you were right to be angry, you _should_ be angry,” She broke the contact, and he could hear her sniffling now. He could hear the tears in her voice. “I hurt you.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“I could have _killed_ you.”

“Well, if we’re being honest here, you could kill me in any form.”

“Well at least when I’m human I have the morality and rationality to _not_.” Maria gritted desperately. “If you hadn’t said my name three times it would have been harder for me to resist my instincts!"

“Saying your name three times?”

“It brings us back, a little. Brings more of our human sides back. If you hadn’t I wouldn’t have been able to understand you at all, and I probably would have…” Maria swallowed. “I probably would have hurt you more.”

She buried herself back in the crook of his neck and she shuddered in his arms.

“Lo siento.” She sobbed. Manolo rocked back and forth a little, trying to comfort her.

“Sh, sh,” He cooed, “it's alright, I understand."

"Why aren't you still angry?" She whispered.

"Because I understand. Sí, it hurts me that you were scared of my reaction, that you couldn’t trust me, but I understand why you were scared to trust me, so I'm not angry."

"I should have told you I was a monster." It was quiet, muffled, and probably not meant to be heard, but Manolo heard it anyway. He shoved her away to look her in the eye (he was pretty sure he was looking her in the eye).

"You are not a monster!" He said firmly. "You and Joaquin both say it but you’re both _not_ , so I don't want to hear it. I don't care about whatever legend or myth or idiotic person that'd dare say you are monster--you're _not_ a monster. Understand?"

Maria sniffed. He was fairly certain she nodded.

"You are beautiful. What I said in the tunnel I meant: you're beautiful in every form. You're beautiful and amazing and wonderful and when you have fur and claws it doesn't change that. I shouldn't have to tell you this, amor, you shouldn't hate yourself like that, so damn whoever told you to straight to _hell._ " He pulled her close again. This time she just continued to sob wordlessly, clinging to him like a lifeline. Manolo wondered if it was the painful shift that made her so emotionally vulnerable. As he traced his fingers in soothing patterns over her skin, they found something wet and Maria flinched.

"Ow."

"Lo siento--are you hurt?" Manolo asked.

"Mm. Fucking Cihuateteo got me." Maria mumbled, tired but no longer crying. Ah, so that's what had attacked him. Faintly he remembered being young and little, and his bisabuela telling him spooky tales of the Cihuateteo that would come and get him if he didn't behave. Just another legend that turned out to be real, he supposed. Real and _dangerous_. When Manolo started to pull away because if Maria was bleeding, if she was hurt--but Maria's grip on him tightened, keeping him still.

"It's just bleeding more ‘cause of the shift, it's not that bad. It probably won't even need stitches.” She said.

“Still, we should wrap it, with something."

"With what?" She replied, words slurring just the tiniest bit. "What pelt are you goin’ t'use as a bandage next? Your tights? Thanks, but m'not wrappin’ those around an open wound, not after bein’ on your smelly feet."

"Ah, uh--touché." Manolo allowed. "But...pelt?"

"Huh? Oh, I said that? Ehhh, pelt, clothes--sorry. M'head's still a little jumbled. Everything's with my body's going to be a mess for a few days. I might--" She cut off with a yawn, her breath warm on his neck, "--might do some random stuff..."

"Like pass out in my arms?" Manolo smiled.

"Mmmm..."

"I wonder if Joaquin heard us howling." Manolo sighed as he settled back against the wall.

"Prob'ly."

"I don't think he can smell us from here." He added.

"Mm."

"I don't--"

Maria shot up from his arms with a gasp.

"That's why he smokes!"

"What?" Manolo tilted his head. What was she talking about?

"That's why Joaquin smokes, Manolo. When you ran off, he told me he usually drinks the blood of animals to survive, but around people he still has to maintain self-control. The smoking must help mask the scent of all the blood!"

"Oh," Manolo said quietly, sick realization dawning. "And we were trying to make him quit."

"It must be torture for him. And that's why he doesn't touch us! Oh no..."

Manolo swallowed. That's why Joaquin refused to be intimate. That's what was holding him back.

"He must be so scared of hurting us, whenever we get too close..." He said.

"But he shouldn't--he--he doesn't have to be." Maria said desperately.

"How?" Manolo asked. They couldn't just suppress Joaquin's vampire instincts--whatever they were--it's not like he only thirsted for blood once a month.

"I--I--" Maria fumbled. "I don't know."

Manolo sighed. He agreed with Maria, they could work through this somehow, but Joaquin wasn't here, and they were still in a cave, and Maria was practically sagging in his arms.

"Then don't worry about it now," He told her. "We'll figure it out when we're home and safe."

Maria grumbled, not wanting to give up. Manolo pulled her back to him. She didn't start to relax until he started combing fingers through her hair.

"O...okay..." Exhaustion was quickly finding her again.

"I'm not sure when Joaquin will get here, but it shouldn't be too long now." He said.

"Well, wake me up when he--do--oes." Maria said around another yawn.

"I promise." Manolo kissed her hair. When she didn’t respond, he thought she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke again.

“Manny?”

“Yeah?”

“You were gonna say somethin’, you were sayin’ somethin’ before I shifted.” She said quietly, on the edge of sleep. “Wha...mm...what were you sayin’?”

Manolo smiled wider.

“As long as I’m here, as long as Joaquin is here, as long as _we’re_ here, you don’t have to howl alone. We’ll always howl with you. I promise you that. We’re your pack Maria.”

After a pause, there was a soft kiss pressed to the side of his neck.

“Gracias.” She whispered.

“I love you, Maria.”

“I love you.” She nestled further into him. She sighed: “Mmmm… my pack. I never thought of it like that. I like the...the sound of it. My pack…my...mine…”

Her words trailed off, and after a few moments her breathing evened out. Manolo held back a chuckle, and he leaned his head on hers. He didn’t mind being Maria’s pillow; after all, she had been his. He gazed at the small sliver of night sky he could see through the crevasse.

He hoped Joaquin would find them soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Me cago en la _mar!_ ” Joaquin threw his shovel down in frustration. All four soldiers flinched in perfect unison. Even the General winced--but Joaquin was too angry to care about appearances. He had been trying to break through the pile of rocks for _ages_. He had first just tried using his hands, his superhuman strength, and his night vision, desperately screaming for Maria and Manolo, to no avail--then Posada and the brigade arrived, and with them a rare visit from a giant thunderstorm (just their _fucking_ luck). Once Joaquin had explained the situation (that Manolo had found Maria in the cave, then there was a cave-in; he wasn’t about to reveal Maria’s secret) over the din, Posada had immediately ordered José and Eduardo back to town to get shovels and anything else that could help them. But Joaquin hadn’t stopped working in the three hours it took them to get there and back--because of the storm--and he hadn’t stopped working afterwards. With every slick rock he pried away from the pile he could see in his mind’s eye Maria diving into the cave after Manolo, the shaking ground and crumbling rocks, him being unable to stop it, to _save them_.

He had to get to them, he had to make sure they were alright, he couldn’t lose them again, he just _couldn’t_.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. They could dig and dig, but they also had to be careful. One wrong move could trigger another rockslide and put them in even deeper shit; the rocks were slippery and more dangerous than ever, and the rain turned everything to mud so thick it was like glue. So there was that, and the fact that--at least in Joaquin’s mind--they were going _infuriatingly_ slow. Posada had mandated that only three men be working at a time. Joaquin supposed that, in hindsight maybe, he would believe that to be a rational decision. After all, if they rotated working, not everyone would be worn out. But being forced to sit on the sidelines (“ _Rest_ ,” Posada ordered, voice strained from stress, “I am as desperate to find my daughter as you are, but we never will if you exhaust yourself.”) for even a little bit was enough for Joaquin to tear his hair out. Sitting still let the rain soak into his bones and his thoughts run wild, and they did not run to good places.

What if there was something in the cave with them? There were coyotes in these rocks, everyone and their mother knew that. What if either of them were hurt from the cave-in? What if the whole cave had collapsed, not just the entrance? What if one or--or both--oh _God_ \--

So he threw himself into digging, digging and digging and focusing on nothing but the rocks and the rain and getting them out of the way and getting to the people he loved.

But the sun was sinking below the horizon, darkening the gray sky, and it felt like they'd barely made any progress at all.

"We're never going to get to them like this!" He lashed out with his fist and connected with solid stone. A poor desicion.

Suddenly rumbling filled the air. The brigade jumped away from the rock pile, but Joaquin was too horror-stricken. No. Oh no no no no no no no. Not now not--

He was yanked back as another small rockslide tumbled down the Trampa and over the cave-in. All their hard work, just...gone.

What had he done.

“No…” He breathed, shaking free of the General’s hold on him. He reached a tentative hand to the new rocks. He was shaking. All that digging, and now his loves were buried deeper than ever. “No…”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“NO!” He screamed, wrenching rock after rock away, ignoring the higher ones he dislodged that hit his head and shoulders. He didn’t care that he looked like a madman now--the loves of his life were trapped and he had just _ruined_ their chances of freeing them. “NO! _Maria! Manolo!_ No-- _no!_ Manolo--”

He didn’t even realize his name was being called until there was a hook in his collar, physically dragging him backwards and onto his rear.

“ _Joaquin!_ ” The General yelled, towering over him now that Joaquin was on the ground. “You will control yourself this _instant_.”

Joaquin shook his head, he refused to sit and be passive, he _refused_. He tried to stand up.

“But--”

General Posada shoved him back down. The rest of the brigade watched on, dumbstruck by the display.

“That is an order! We are all desperate to rescue my daughter and her husband, but we will be unable to do so if we lose our heads! Look at what your irrationality has done already!” He gestured to the cave-in. “That is _it_! You are no longer allowed to dig.”

“What!?” Joaquin cried. “No! You can’t--”

“It is almost nightfall. _You_ will set up camp while the men work, and when that is done, we will take shifts to keep watch. In the morning, I will send groups out to see if we can find another way into the caves! Lo entiendes?”

Joaquin glared up at him. Every fiber of him screamed to fight back, even if it was his superior officer.

“I will not--” He growled.

“ _That is an order, soldado! Lo entiendes?_ ” Posada roared. Joaquin froze. In all his years, the General had only ever called him ‘boy’, or by his name. Never ‘soldier’. The General had pulled rank and it slammed Joaquin in the gut. A boy was emotional, Joaquin was emotional, they were cared for by Posada, but a soldier was not. A soldier was just another man under his command. A soldier obeyed. A soldier followed orders.

His jaw clenched and his eye stung. He rose to his feet slowly.

“Sí, señor.” He forced through his teeth.

“Then get to it.”

In a way, it was almost a relief to not be digging, not that Joaquin would admit it, not even to himself. He went about his task like an automaton. Stick, cut at the top, stick, cut at the top. Stick. Tarp. Peg, peg, peg, peg. A green, wrathful part of him was tempted to make a faulty job of the General’s tent, but he shoved that down. There really was no point to that. That same wrath resurged when he was making dinner, but again, there really was no point to burning food that everyone, not just the General, had to eat. Not that he in particular ate anything. Until the General forced him to.

“I’m not hungry.”

“And you think I am?” Posada shoved a bowl into his hands. His words were sharp. “Every second I am fearing that I will never get my daughter back. But every second I am also aware that I need to eat to stay strong, as do you. Eat, soldado.”

His tone made it clear that it was an order. Joaquin grumbled, but ate. It was hard not to gag: he may have been the best cook out of all of them--a heightened sense of smell was good for that--but that did nothing to change the fact that to him, it tasted like nothing but dirt. And while he had accustomed himself to eating nutritionless dirt for years to maintain appearances, his mood made him feel especially vitriolic towards it tonight. But he was a soldier. He followed orders.

He felt a little bad for the other men; they were unused to seeing their hero so shaken, or their leader so harsh to him. Hardly any of them spoke a word the entire night, leaving the group in painful silence. Rodrigo took the first shift that night.

Joaquin was grateful for it: he was only able to set up three tents, which meant he had to share, but with Rodrigo on watch he could get a couple hours without the scent of blood washing over him, along with the man’s other, less pleasant odors (to be fair though, they all smelled pretty horrid right now). Even so, Joaquin couldn’t find the calm to sleep. How could he? So he laid in his bedroll and stared at tarp and pretended his hands weren’t shaking as the night crawled by. When Rodrigo came in from his shift, sleep seemed even more elusive than ever, but more so because Joaquin was so tense Rodrigo’s snoring sounded deafening than anything else.

He had just managed a fitful doze when the silence of the night was broken.

By a _howl_.

He shot upright in his bedroll, gasping. That howl! That howl was too loud to be anyone but--but--

_Maria._

_She was alive._

He couldn’t stop himself from bursting out of the tent. After being under a blanket the night was especially cold, but Joaquin didn’t even notice it. Hector was quivering in his seat, but Joaquin didn’t notice that either. Maria was _alive_ and she was _howling_ and now Joaquin was shaking too.

But...that howling didn’t sound happy at all. It sounded _sad_. Really sad. Oh no, that couldn’t mean--

The howl changed, and Joaquin could hear it, faintly, underneath. Another howl that definitely wasn’t coming from any wolf. And that was enough to send him to tears.

They were _both_ alive. Thank the gods.

“C-coyotes!” Hector cowered. He couldn’t see Joaquin crying. “I hope they d-don’t find the camp.”

Joaquin tried not to laugh. It definitely wasn’t coyotes, but he wasn’t about to fix Hector’s mistake. More than anything he wished Maria and Manolo _could_ find the camp. Unfortunately they couldn’t. But he could find them. He could find them tomorrow, when the General sent them out to find another entrance to the caves.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Coyotes are cowards. We’re too big and scary for them.”

“O-oh. B-bueno.”

“But even if they did we’d take ‘em down, right Hector?”

“Oh--uh--yeah! They wouldn’t stand a chance, Joaquin.” Hector raised his shaking fist in nervous support.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Joaquin grinned. For a moment he closed his eyes and let the howling wash over him. It was so happy now; a part of Joaquin wished he could join in. A part of him wanted to run for it right this instant, rescue them right now. That wouldn’t be wise, so Joaquin listened and stayed still, memorizing the howling, where it was coming from. When the howling petered to an end Joaquin sighed and open his eyes. “Buenos noches, Hector.”

“Ah, buenos noches, Joaquin!”

This time when Joaquin laid in bed and couldn’t sleep, it was because he was far too excited. And yes, still crying.

The morning couldn’t come fast enough. When it did come, however, it came with bright sunlight and clear skies. It was a disadvantage for Joaquin, yes, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Especially with plenty of mud still caked on his skin. His behavior was noticeably different as he wolfed down his breakfast--even the taste equivalent of dirt wasn’t enough to bring him down.

“You’re in a good mood, eh, Joaquin?” Eduardo nudged him. He grinned at the soldier, and he hoped he didn’t look as wild as he felt.

“We’re going to find them today.” He said. “I can feel it.”

...Yeah, maybe he said that a little too strangely. Eduardo returned the grin, but it was forced and wary. Eh, the soldier would live. Everyone would live today.

Joaquin counted himself lucky he was paired with José; the going would have been slower with the General. But Posada didn’t seem inclined to spend any time with him today, still angry with him about his behavior the previous day. As such, Joaquin climbed through the rocks with ease and grace in the direction of last night’s howling, José scrambling behind.   
“Joaquin--you are--you are very fast!” José panted when Joaquin paused for a moment to survey the paths they could take. Joaquin’s own breathing was a little heavy, but he had a far better endurance than his companion.

“Lo siento José,” He clapped the soldier on the shoulder, accidentally sending him staggering. “But can’t you feel it? Luck is on our side today.”   
“Uh, if you say so--” Joaquin hushed him before he could finish.

“Sh! Do you hear that?” He breathed. He cocked his head towards the sound. It was…screaming. More than that, it was someone screaming his name. Two someones.

“Hear wh--”

“It’s them! They’re calling out for help, I can hear them!” Joaquin cried. His heart leapt in his chest. “We’ve found them José! Come on!”

He raced towards the screams, leaping over rocks and around boulders. José could barely keep up with him now. It wasn’t long before he was calling back excitedly.

“Maria! Manolo!” He yelled.

“Joaquin! Joaquin!”

The calls picked up in frequency. He could hear Maria’s voice too; she must have changed back. That was a bit of a relief: it would be a lot easier to rescue her when she wasn’t a giant wolf.

As excellent as his hearing was, he nearly tripped into the hole when he found it. It wasn’t very large--he would barely be able to fit down it. He practically danced around it once he recovered.

“Maria! Manolo!”

“Joaquin!” Maria’s voice echoed through the hole. It was rougher than usual. “You found us!”

“Sí! Don’t worry guys, I’m gonna get you out of there!” He called down. “Are you hurt?”  
He didn’t like the answer he heard.

“Sí, my leg...my leg is broken.” Manolo said. Shit, it was going to be harder to lift him out that way. Joaquin shrugged off the length of rope he’d been carrying and quickly tied a loop in the end of it. That’s when José finally caught up to him.

“José! Go fetch the general and the others, cagando leches! They’re down here!” Joaquin ordered. José, who was panting harder than ever and sweating bullets, made something akin to a pained noise before turning on his heel and heading back in the direction they had come. Joaquin lowered to rope loop end first down the hole.

“Send Manolo up first! Stick your good foot on the loop and I’ll pull you up!”

“Already on it.” Maria replied. Suddenly the rope went taught.   
“I’m ready!” Manolo called.

“Alright, hold on tight.” Joaquin grunted. Slowly he pulled the rope up, not necessarily because he couldn’t do it quickly, but out of consideration for Manolo’s injury. As soon as he could Manolo lifted a hand over the edge of the hole and started trying to drag himself up on his own. Joaquin pulled him up a little further, then after that he couldn’t resist. He bolted to the guitarist, grabbing him by the shoulders and heaving him up onto solid ground. Manolo was blinking rapidly, heavily disoriented by the light; his face was smudged with dirt, he had a few scrapes here and there, and his hair was a complete mess. He was _beautiful_.

“Manolo.” Joaquin murmured, and the desperate relief in him trumped every single instinct that told him to stay away and every instinct that told him to hone in on the fresh blood from Manolo’s arm, which was wrapped in his cummerbund. All instincts and inhibitions trumped, his hands cupped Manolo’s face and their lips crashed together, because _thank the gods_ , Manolo was _here_ , he was _alive_ , and Joaquin hadn't lost him, not again. Manolo froze in his hands, and Joaquin could _hear_ the man’s heartbeat spike. Guiltily Joaquin made to pull away but suddenly Manolo’s hand was on his neck, keeping him there, responding to the kiss. He made it _dirty_ , all open mouths and sliding tongues and nipping teeth and soft lips. _Gods_ , it was so much better than Joaquin had ever imagined.

That is, until:

“Hey! Muy sexy, niños, pero no tengo el chichi para farolillos.”

Joaquin shot away then, embarrassment flushing his features. Manolo looked completely awestruck, eyes half-lidded and mouth open slightly.

“Woah.” He breathed. Joaquin looked down the hole and it was a blessed relief to see a human Maria staring right back up at him. Well, glaring. And tapping her foot impatiently.

“Heh,” He huffed nervously. “Lo siento.”

“Was that...your first kiss?” Manolo asked quietly as Joaquin lowered the rope back down to Maria. He still seemed awestruck, and his voice was roughened. Joaquin coughed a little, and decidedly did _not_ make eye contact. All the instincts he had momentarily suppressed came surging back, and he was all of a sudden acutely aware of his own dropped fangs that refused to go away and Manolo’s heartbeat, still pounding in his chest. It beat in harmony with his own shuddering heart. _Focus_.

“Yeah.” He said, swallowing.

“Woah.” Manolo repeated.

Joaquin elected to not respond to that, waiting for Maria’s call that she was ready.

“You should kiss me more.” The guitarist added, and the heady _want_ in his voice had Joaquin choking on air. In his distraction (read: coughing fit) the rope slipped from his fingers, and he couldn’t catch it before it slipped down the hole.

“W-woops.” He winced.

“ _Seriously_ , boys?” Maria snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Joaquin hastily apologized. “Don’t worry, José is getting everyone else. They’ll have more rope, we just have to wait.”

“Perfect.” Her voice dripped with disdain, and again Joaquin winced.

Wandering hands suddenly found one of his bandoliers and yanked him to face Manolo.

"You should kiss me more, _now_." In this close proximity, the smell of Manolo's blood was almost overwhelming, but worse than that, Joaquin could see a spot of blood on Manolo's lip. He must have accidentally nicked the man when they kissed. That had always been what he was afraid of, what he tried to avoid at all costs, and it happened. _Dammit_.

He shoved Manolo's hands off of him.

"Don't bet on it, Manny." He said, voice inches away from a threatening growl. "I accidentally bit you a little bit. It's just the hormone rush you're getting to your head. It'll wear off in a minute or two."

Manolo's brow furrowed as he fought to think rationally through the haze of lust. "...Que?"

"When vampires bite, they release hormones that mess with the victim's head so they don't feel the pain." Joaquin explained with an uncomfortable sigh. "If I focus I can make it so that hormone rush doesn't happen, but I wasn't focused. I'm sorry Manny."

"Wha--don't be...this is the happiest I've felt since, like, this whole mess started." Manolo said with a smile. Joaquin felt sick to his stomach.

"Don't say that, Manolo!" He snapped. "It's fake and it's just in your head. Don't get used to it!"

"Why not?" Manolo retorted, frowning. "If kissing was this amazing I don't know why you weren't doing it sooner."

"Because it's not _kissing_ , Manny! It's _biting_!" Joaquin cried, trying desperately to get Manolo to see how this wasn’t a good thing. "You're lucky I was distracted enough to only nick you, and not anything else!"

"Mmm, I wonder what 'anything else' feels like." Manolo sat back on his palm, smile dreamy and eyes still a little hazy. "Probably amazing."

Oh _gods_ this could not be _happening_.

" _No_ Manolo!" Joaquin yelled finally. It made the guitarist jump and he could see some of that haze dissipate. "It's not amazing! It's _addictive_. You get hooked on that rush and crave it and crave it until I might as well drain you dry for all you care! And then one day when I'm gone you'll go into withdrawal and _fall apart_. I've already seen it happen once to someone I love and I _refuse_ to let it happen again! So don't wonder and don't get used to it!"

That seemed enough to cow Manolo to silence. Joaquin shimmied away to the other side of the hole.

"How are you doing, Maria?" He called down, the calm in his voice forced. He could see her, standing in the light of the crevasse. She was wearing the poncho Manolo had found in the desert. She squinted up at him.

"Exhausted. I can't wait to go to sleep in a nice bed."

"I can agree with that." Joaquin nodded.

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How are _you_ doing?" Maria asked.

"Better, now that I've found you guys." Joaquin answered. He leaned down into the hole a little to get a better view of Maria, and that's when he smelled it. It was faint, brought to his nose by a small cave draft, but growing stronger. Oh _no_.

"Oh no," He murmured aloud, sticking his head deeper into the hole and sniffing deeply, ignoring the smell of Maria and cave dust. And he could hear it too, the faintest skittering of paws on the ground. Just when things couldn't get any worse, there had to be  _this._

" _Shit_." Joaquin hissed, leaping to his feet and gazing around. The brigade was nowhere in sight, and he couldn't hear them or smell them. They wouldn't get there in time.

"What's wrong?" Manolo asked, voice a little tentative. Joaquin ran back to the hole.

"Maria, get out of the way!"

"What?"

"Get out of the way, _now_." Joaquin repeated urgently. Maria scrambled out of sight, and Joaquin sat down at the edge of the hole, legs dangling inside.

"Joaquin, what's going on?" Manolo pressed. Joaquin tried not to look as worried as he felt, but it probably didn't work.

"Coyotes."

With that he dropped himself down into the hole, wincing as the rocks dragged against his shoulders. It was about a ten foot drop from the hole, but with a barrel roll he was on his feet and completely fine.

"Joaquin? Why did you come down here?" Maria asked incredulously. Joaquin could see her even in the shadows, and it was blindingly relieving to see her too, but what happened with Manolo kept him in check. That and the impending attack. And the fact that she was...naked. From the waist down. Joaquin resolutely kept his gaze above her hips.

"Coyote pack." He drew one of his swords and handed it to her, words awkwardly terse. He gestured to one of the tunnels leading into the cave. "Approaching. From down there. Can't you smell them?"

"Joaquin, I'm human now. I'm just a regular human with regular senses." She didn't seem to notice his embarrassment at her nudity. The sword sagged in her grip. "I'm also exhausted, remember? I don't know how much help I'll be."

"It's fine, just stay behind me." Joaquin shifted so he was between her and the tunnel. A few yips echoed in the air. They were getting close.

"For once I'm happy to let you do that," Maria murmured, "but don't get comfortable with it in the future."

"Didn't plan on it."

"Good. _Do_ plan, however, on explaining what just happened between you and Manolo."

Joaquin turned to deny, but Maria raised an eyebrow.

"Don't think I didn't hear you yelling at him. I'm not going to let that one flow under the bridge."

"You don't understand." Joaquin grumbled.

"I understand more than you think, Joaquin. I _know_ more than you think, too." Maria replied coolly. Joaquin opened his mouth to respond, but anything he could have said was drowned out by echoing barks as coyotes suddenly poured into the cave. It was a full pack, about ten to fifteen coyotes that were completely _emaciated_. Coyotes could sometimes be called beautiful, in their own strange way, with their own strange grace, but these things were ratty and mangy. They must have been lost in the caves for some time, to become so starved. Starved was bad; starved meant they were desperate, starved meant they were willing to take on any opportunity to get a meal. Including Joaquin and Maria. Slowly the coyotes began to circle around them, surrounding them and cutting them off from any escape.

"We're in deep shit now." Maria breathed, leveling Joaquin's sword at one of the beasts. She may love animals, but her life always came first. Joaquin bared his fangs and hissed a little. A part of him hoped that that would be enough to tip the pack off that this was a bad idea, that he was too big and strong for them. But instead the coyotes snarled back, teeth bared and eyes glinting. So much for that.

That green, wrathful part of him that should be gone _why isn't it gone_ was goading him to attack, to rip their throats out and feed and feed. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd eaten, after all, and here was an easy opportunity. But he fought that feeling hard, because giving in to instincts could get Maria hurt if she got too close.

"Joaquin! Left!" Manolo yelled down suddenly, watching the whole scene from above. Joaquin whirled and the first coyote to attack impaled itself on his blade, jaws snapping mere inches away from his face. He kicked the coyote off his sword and pivoted to face the rest as they began to attack. Three leapt for him at once, but he managed to dodge two of them. The third clawed into his back and he cried out in pain. He reached behind and seized it by the scruff of its neck.

“ _Böser hund_.” He snarled, before yanking the animal over his shoulder and slamming it into the ground, hard. Behind him he heard Maria give a war cry, then a foot connecting with fur and the snapping of non-human bones. She seemed fine for the moment. Four more coyotes were circling him, nipping at his heels, taunting and toying with him.

“Joaquin, detrás de ti!” Manolo warned. Joaquin pivoted but wasn’t fast enough to stop a fifth coyote. He let the momentum of its attack knock him back onto the ground, then kept that momentum going by using it to shove the coyote over his head. But putting himself on the ground made him vulnerable. Sharp jaws clamped down around his calf and began jerking, and he screamed. Manolo yelled fearfully above them. Another coyote grabbed his elbow, and a third leapt onto his chest. Before it could do anything he snarled and managed to stab it in the side. He wrenched his elbow free and punched that coyote in the face, then shoved the coyote on his chest off of him. He kicked out and succeeded in kicking the coyote biting his opposite leg square in the nose. It let go with a yelp.

“Joaquin!” This time it was Maria, screaming for help. He sat up in time to see her get tackled by two coyotes at once, and that was all it took to make his vision go red as he gave in to that _damned_ green wrath. He launched himself at the coyotes with a feral roar.

A part of him knew this was bad, this was very bad, it was always bad to lose control like this when there was an innocent bystander nearby, but rage had swallowed up his restraint. He clawed and bit at fur and the flesh underneath. He ripped the coyotes off of her and tossed them across the cave like they were no more than sacks of flour; then he went after them _all_.

Joaquin’s world was nothing but a whirlwind of fur and barking and claws and growling and snapping teeth, his sword abandoned in favor of his bare hands and his brute strength. He wasn’t aware of how many there were anymore but he didn’t dare let a single one pass him. They were _his_ prey and _his_ feast, and once their blood hit open air he couldn’t hold back. Slowly the noise in his ears quieted, quieted from growling and barking and hissing to the dull roar of blood under his mouth and the rush of blood in his own ears. He drank and drank and drank and it was _glorious_ , he couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself go like this, gave in to every instinct and became the predator victorious. The blood was nowhere near as good or as tantalizing as what he smelled every day, as what he shrouded himself in smoke to avoid, but this was the next best thing.

He tossed the coyote to the ground once he had drained it almost dry. He hadn’t completely calmed down yet, he was still seeing red, still urging to hunt something else, but all the prey was dead, and he was already almost full. He was panting very hard. He was also on his knees, and his clothes were probably ruined, but this awareness was only dimly, at the back of his mind. His gaze fell to another coyote, one not completely bled out, and he started to paw towards it slowly. He wanted more...more…

“...Joaquin?” It was like the worst kind of trigger being pulled and he turned to face that sweet sweet sound. He suddenly remembered that while the coyotes were the next best thing, the best thing was _right there_ , right there and _vulnerable_ and _open_ , and he could smell it, fresh and dripping down starkly against smooth skin. _Like dessert_ , the green poison in his mind encouraged, and he was too far gone to do anything but listen.

It was pathetically easy to pin it against the wall, hands holding it still as he lapped at every drop. _Gods_ it was _heavenly_ , so untainted by smoke or alcohol, so pure and young and practically addictive, even with that strange aftertaste that didn’t feel quite right. Actually, a whole part of this didn’t feel quite right. Some part of him was fighting this, fighting everything, and screaming for control because this was _wrong, stop it stop it stop it_. It echoed with the cries outside as he went after more and more of that blood. Its plaintive cries were almost musical and its slaps to his head hardly deterred him and he continued to drink, _feast_ , as his mouth closed over any open wound he could find. It--

There was a stinging slap to his cheek that knocked him away, and it was quickly followed by a hard kick in the same spot that sent him crashing to the ground. It disoriented him enough to finally make the red in his vision go away, and that green poison retreat to the corner of his mind. He blinked to make it go away faster because he was quickly regaining himself. He wasn’t some mindless beast. He was _Joaquin_. And it--not it, she-- _she_ was _Maria_.

And he had hurt her.

Thick horror washed over him and he scrambled back to his hands and knees and turned to her because oh _god_ , he hurt her, after all this, after trying to _rescue her_ \--

“ _Joaquin_.” Maria snapped, feet apart and hands up in a fighting stance; she jerked back warily when he turned to her--he moved too fast. She was breathing heavily too, but her voice was desperate and pleading. She had several scratches down her legs--and those were the ones he could see. “Joaquin, snap out of it.”

Whatever expression was on his face convinced her that he had snapped out of it, and her hands dropped. Her gaze softened. Joaquin felt his eye burn with tears because she shouldn’t be relaxing or letting her guard down at all. He _hurt her_ like the damn monster he always knew he was, there shouldn’t be so much concern in her eyes.

“Maria? Joaquin? Maria, what’s going on? I can’t see you, is everything alright? Are you alright?” Manolo called down. Joaquin had completely forgotten Manolo was there (oh no how much had he seen?); but he had hurt him too. He always hurt them. He always harmed the ones he loved most. _Monster, monster, monster_ , his mind chanted.

“We’re okay, Manny!” Maria called back (lied back, how could she be okay? How could any of them be okay after this?), without breaking eye contact with Joaquin. “A little beat up, and...a little shaken, but we’re okay.”

“Good--ah, the General is here!”

“Maria!” Posada’s high voice echoed gratingly down the hole. “Are you alright!? Are you hurt?”

“A little, Papa.” Maria answered. “But I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t worry, mi’ja, we are going to get you out of here right now! Eduardo, get a move on--where is Joaquin?”

“He’s down here with me.” Maria answered. She took a tentative step towards Joaquin, and he shifted back. He couldn’t be near her right now, he _shouldn’t_ be near her. Guilt and horror ate at him, making him shake. “He accidentally dropped the rope and then a coyote pack showed up. He jumped down and saved me.”

She seemed to be putting a particular emphasis on those last two words, like she was not just saying them to the General. She took another step forward and he shifted back again.

“Joaquin, are you alright?”

He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak. Maria spoke for him.

“Sí, él está bien. Just catching his breath.” Her voice dropped to a gentle whisper. “Come on, Joaquin. It’s alright.”

He shook his head and backed a little further away. How could he go back up there, and pretend he wasn’t a monster anymore? How could he feign being okay--he could have just _killed_ the woman he loved most.

“Joaquin, it’s okay. I’m not angry.” Maria cooed, holding her hand out to him. “Joaquin, it’s not your fault.”

“How can you s-say that?” His voice was hardly more than a choked whisper.

“I should have known better than to get your attention when you were in the middle of bloodlust. It’s just like poking a wolf while it’s eating, it’ll turn on you. I should have known better. Joaquin, you weren’t in control.”

“I should have b-been.” He couldn’t stop shaking. “I should have been more than the--the monster I am. But I’m n-not. I hurt you.”

“No you didn’t, you didn’t even bite me, you just drank what was already bleeding. You didn’t even hit me with bloodrush, Joaquin.” She crouched down to be eye-level with him. Everything she did was slow and gentle.

“Lucky.” He breathed.

“Lucky,” Maria nodded, “Or maybe you have more control than you think.”

That couldn't be right, could it? If she hadn't kicked him away he wouldn't have stopped. Yet, he was too strong for her, and she was tired, and she had managed to do it. Behind them a rope dropped down the hole and into the cave.

“Maria! Grab the rope and we will pull you up!” The General yelled down.

"I’m coming, Papa!" Maria replied over her shoulder. She shuffled forward a little, and this time he didn't move back, although he leaned away slightly. "Joaquin, I promise you everything is okay. Take my hand."

"I don't want to hurt you again." He murmured.

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"Joaquin, I could give you a list of reasons why I _know_ you won't. But the most important one? I trust you, amor. I trust you and I love you and that's not going to change anytime soon." Maria said.

"I can't trust myself." Admitting that was not the release he thought it would be. Instead it made him feel more pathetic.

"Then trust me." Small fingers touched his hand, and he flinched, but he didn’t pull away. His hands were smeared with blood, and so were hers (was it Manolo’s blood? Coyote blood? _Her_ blood? He couldn’t tell, the smells were too confusing). She took both of his hands, and he couldn’t help but grip onto them like a lifeline. He was still shaking badly. But maybe she could ground him, and keep him focused. Keep him human.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” She asked, eyes roaming up and down what she could see, trying to gauge his injuries. Joaquin took a quick mental check. There were the shallow scratches on his back, and the bite on his leg and elbow. As he focused he realized there was stinging on the back of his head, as well as on his thigh and side. His whole body ached like one giant bruise; he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. He hadn’t taken on that many opponents without the medal before.

“I’m worse for wear, but, uh...nothing--nothing fatal.” He said quietly. He would have examined her for injuries, but common decency kept his eyes either down on their hands or up at her eyes. “I’ll heal. Are...are you okay?”

Maria nodded. “Same as you. Mostly just my legs though. Not the worst I’ve had.”

Joaquin nodded back. Good. That was good.

“Maria!”

“Papa, could you possibly toss down a blanket or something, por favor?” She was obviously irritated that her father kept interrupting, but she kept that irritation out of her voice. “The coyotes tore up most of my clothes, I’m...I’m a little bit naked.”

The voices up above became hushed and awkward. Joaquin wasn’t really paying attention to them, but he did find it a little humorous at how uncomfortable Maria managed to make her own father. That is, until:

“Rodrigo, you will keep a civil tongue in your head or I will throw you over the edge of the Trampa!” The General roared. Maria’s head dropped with a weak huff of exasperated laughter.

“Remind me to punch Rodrigo for whatever he said.”

Joaquin’s thoughts briefly flitted back to her welcome back banquet a month ago, when Joaquin punched Rodrigo in the face for trying to make the fact that he had upset Maria something _sexy_.

“You know, I think he’s always been that awful.” He managed a weak smile.

“All the more reason to punch him.” Maria grinned devilishly. “Come on, we should go.”

He let her tug him to his feet, and his grip on her hands didn’t loosen until she asked him to let go.

“Ah, lo siento.” He mumbled hastily. Maria shook her head.

“It’s fine Joaquin. I understand. I wouldn’t let go if I didn’t have to.” She said, picking up one of his swords and handing it to him. It was soaked with blood, and he fought the flash instinct to lick some of it. He hated sheathing his swords when they were dirty, but there really wasn’t any other option. He picked up the second as he walked by it. When he turned, Maria was wrapping a blanket around her waist and tying it. She grabbed the rope for a moment, then let go and walked back to him.

“There’s blood around your mouth.” She murmured. With the end of her poncho, she reached up slowly and wiped some of it away. Joaquin purposefully froze as soon as she drew near him, and held his breath.

“We’re going to help you with this, Joaquin.” She sighed as her hand dropped away. “I promise.”

Before he could even comprehend, she kissed the palm of her hand and laid it on his heart.

“Te amo.” She whispered. She turned on her heel and trotted back to the rope, hooking her foot in the loop and tugging.

“Ready!” She called. Joaquin waited until she had been completely lifted out of the cave before wiping away the tears on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, who’s going to explain what first?” Manolo murmured. His head was nestled in Maria’s lap, and his eyes weren’t even open. He had broken the silence that had befallen the three of them since they had climbed into the boat. It had been decided that the boat would be the easiest way to take Manolo home, with his broken leg, and--of course--Maria and Joaquin refused to be separated from him. Not only because the past two nights’ events had made them all a little clingy, Manolo imagined, but also because it was a chance for the three of them to be alone together and talk. After all, Maria had insisted on rowing all the way to the other side of town, to home: it would be more comfortable for Manolo, it was closer to the doctor’s anyway, and, indeed, it gave them plenty of time to talk. So now Manolo was lying on his side across Maria, broken leg propped up on the other seat by Joaquin, who was rowing. A twisted position, but Manolo didn’t care.

There was a stuttering in Joaquin’s rowing, but it quickly resumed. He had actually barely spoken a word since the coyote attack. Manolo knew he had fought off the coyotes, he had seen some of (and quickly looked away from) the carnage, but something told him that that wasn’t the only thing that happened down in the cave. Manolo hoped Joaquin and Maria would tell him. As for now, the soldier--who was just as much a mess as them, with a torn and bloody uniform caked with mud, and skin covered in bites and scratches--kept his lips pressed in a thin line as much as he could.

“I’ll go first.” Maria offered quietly. “Ladies first, after all. I suppose.”

Neither man protested, so she continued. She began to card her fingers through Manolo’s hair. It felt nice.

“I--I already told Manolo, but, ah, I was turned when I was twelve.” She began. Even Manolo could hear Joaquin’s small gasp. “That’s when most of us are turned--twelve or thirteen. It’s the best way, it’s when we’re growing the most, and our bones are more flexible, and it’s not as stressful on our bodies because they’re already prepared for an influx of hormones. At least, that’s what they told us.”

“The Convent of the Perpetual Flame of Purity _is_ a convent, but the pack is a secret--like a secret society. And we aren’t some kind of demon. We’re not cursed...well, I suppose that depends on your point of view. In a way, we’re almost--” She laughed weakly, “we’re almost superheroes. Werewolves, at least the pack at the convent, their duty, _our_ duty, was to protect humans, and to hunt those supernatural beings that would hurt them. The convent called us Warriors of God...I remember one pack-sister calling us pest-control.” Another weak laugh.

“All those years, travelling around Europe, it was training. Training and hunting. We learned kung fu and fencing to train our human bodies, to make sure we were strong in either form.” Her voice took on a strange tone, as if she was lost in her own words. “And we learned to track and hunt in our wolf bodies. Museums and libraries and--lessons on every supernatural creature known to man. That’s why I know so much about you, Joaquin. You’re--Joaquin, you’re not a vampire. I mean, you’re half-vampire, the name for it is dhampir. We learned about dhampirs, but we’d never encountered one in real life--that’s part of the reason I attacked you--I was so startled.”

“Dhampir…” Joaquin murmured to himself.

“It was a noble cause, I guess, but...I never fit in. The pack-song never felt right, _being_ there never felt right. Normally at the convent a pack-sister would stay, don the habit and stay a member of the pack, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to. And...the pack didn’t want me. Maybe they saw how...messed up I was. Because the older I got, the more it hurt. I’d run off on my own...do stupid, reckless things...get hurt. One hurt to drown out another. As risky as it was, they decided to send me home. I’m...I’m grateful for that.”

The fingers combing through Manolo’s hair were wavering a little.

“I change every full moon, and the shift lasts two nights. The day leading up to it sends my body out of whack, and the days following do too. To avoid raising suspicions when I came home last month, one of the non-Sisters--the Sisters who were pack but not wolf--made me a charm--a belt. It had enough power to hold back my transformation once, as long as I was wearing it. I wore it under my skirt...It came with a consequence--most magic does, that’s why the pack refused to use it unless absolutely necessary. Shifting was--is--a part of my body, my nature now. If I don’t shift, my body revolts. That’s why I got sick the week after I came home. And the following shift, this shift, the pain was doubled. Postponed from the previous one, you could say. Usually I don’t, ah, scream so much…”

She inhaled deeply, as if she had been holding her breath that whole time.

“I guess...that’s everything.” She said. “Uh...any questions?”

"...Are there any boy werewolves?" Manolo asked curiously.

"Not many, that I know of. There certainly weren't any in our pack. Being a convent and all."

"Mm...and the rocks?" He asked next. He smiled at the memory of the glowing rainbows of color in the cave.

"Well, our howls are a special frequency that resonates with gemstones, making them glow, brighter the closer we are to them," she chuckled a little, "I'm not sure why, but we're tied to gems, in some way. All werewolves have a love of gems and jewels, it's like a vice. And further than that, each of us is tied to a specific gem, that holds more power over us than others. In my case, garnets. That's why the charm belt was inlaid with them."

"Wolves and jewels, that seems a little random." Manolo sighed. He reached up and stopped the shaking hands in his hair, holding on to them comfortingly. Maria shrugged above him.

"That's how it is. Just like saying my name three times brings my human consciousness back a little. Doesn't that seem random too?"

"True. How did you _become_ a werewolf? Like, how were you turned? Were you bitten? Or scratched?" Manolo's mind briefly flashed to the wound on his arm. He didn't... _feel_ any different...

"You're not going to become a werewolf if that's what you're worried about, amor," Maria laughed. "No, no biting or scratching. It's..." Her laughter immediately faded, and her voice dropped. "It's a lot more complicated than that. I...I don't want to go into it. Not right now."

Manolo frowned, but let it slide. It was obviously something uncomfortable for Maria. She would explain it in her own time.

"Did you want to?" Joaquin piped up suddenly, quietly. Maria started a little.

"What?"

"Did you want to be turned?" He asked again. "Did you have a choice?"

Maria fell silent. Manolo opened his eyes, but from where he was sitting he couldn't see the expression on her face. Joaquin's expression, however, was evidently of concern, but also guarded curiosity.

"I...I'm not always sure." Maria said, finally. She chose her words carefully. “At the time, I...I was still grasping at anything that would make Papa angry, make him regret ever sending me away--not that he would ever know. But I wanted an out, I _needed_ an out...but they made it seem like the only out. Four years of what just felt like...grooming. Preparing me. I do wonder, sometimes, what would have happened, if I said no. I really have no way of knowing.”

“You couldn’t ask?” Manolo frowned. No matter what Maria said, the fact that she had been turned when she was so young bothered him. It bothered Joaquin too, Manolo could see it. Turning a child into an incredibly powerful being wasn’t right, even it was “the best way”.

“It is not my place to question the pack.” Maria said--recited, more like, like the phrase had been ingrained into her mind. “...And even if I did, I probably wouldn’t get a straight answer, if I got an answer at all.”

“...Do you regret it?” Joaquin asked, even quieter than before.

“...No…” Maria sighed. “I mean...yes, sometimes I do. But what I did overseas, what I’ll probably do here, it’s noble work, _important_ work. I’ve saved so many lives, Joaquin. I’ve done so much good, but...sometimes I look at my scars, and remember that not all the scars I have are on my body. And...when all is said and done, I’m still alone.”

“But not anymore.” Manolo pushed himself so he was upright in the boat, and he could look Maria in the eye. He could finally see the expression on her face: lost. She just looked... _lost_. He had let go of her hands to sit up, and he took them again. “Remember what I told you in the cave Maria. We’re your pack. You, me, and Joaquin, we’re a pack.”

While the lost look in her eyes didn’t completely go away, she smiled wide and squeezed his hands.

“I know.”

“And maybe I can’t speak for Joaquin,” Manolo gestured to the soldier, a little teasingly. “But I’ll howl with you whenever.”

Maria giggled a little. Joaquin scoffed, and when Manolo looked at him, some of the man’s usual cheerfulness and charm was back.

“Are you kidding?” He said, smile small but there. “If I wasn’t surrounded by the brigade when I heard you guys, I would have joined in, no doubt. I also would have tried to rescue you guys right away, but--well--I’d have to explain to your father how you were a wolf and, well, you know.” He trailed off awkwardly. Maria giggled a little more.

“I know. I have to say,” She leaned on Manolo’s shoulder, “even if my whole pack wasn’t singing, that...that was the happiest pack-song I’ve ever been a part of.”

There was a twang in Manolo’s heart. Six years a werewolf, six _dozen_ shifts, and that was the happiest Maria had been howling? He remembered the ache in her howl before he joined in, it would hardly be something he’d ever forget. If he could erase that loneliness from her heart he would, but all he could do now was make things better from here.

“I guarantee you they’re only going to get happier.” He promised, bringing one of her hands up to kiss her knuckles. He couldn’t see her face down on his shoulder, but he knew she was smiling.

“I look forward to it. But I look forward to a good night’s sleep first.” She said, finishing with a yawn. The yawn quickly infected Manolo.

“Yo--también.” He said around his own.  He watched curiously as Joaquin tried to fight his own impending yawn. Joaquin couldn’t hide his mouth, so when he couldn’t hold off any longer, Manolo was able to look at Joaquin’s teeth. The canines were shorter, more normal now. When Joaquin recovered, he immediately clamped his mouth shut. Manolo leaned his head on Maria’s.

“You know, I always thought they made your smile sexier.” He said. Joaquin started a little, and a little bit of flush crept onto his cheeks.

“W-what?”

“Your canines, even when normal they’re kind of pointy. They make your smile sexy.” Manolo repeated. Joaquin blushed harder.

“Oh.” He looked away. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Can you tell me what happened in the cave?” Manolo asked next. A bit of a jump, but he had a feeling that that was why Joaquin was so withdrawn. Joaquin didn’t stop rowing, but Manolo noticed his grip on the oars tighten. The soldier definitely didn’t look up now.

“I did what I’m always afraid of doing.” Joaquin said. “I lost control.”

“He went into bloodlust.” Maria lifted her head suddenly. When Manolo shot her a questioning look, she continued matter-of-factly. “I know about vampires and dhampirs, remember?”

“Oh, right. Ah...what’s bloodlust?” Manolo shot a quick glance over at Joaquin. The man still wasn’t looking up; he seemed content to let Maria explain.

“Kind of in the name, to be honest. When a vampire--or dhampir--doesn’t eat for a while, it becomes harder for them to resist their own instincts--and this is assuming they resist them at all, which Joaquin does. The hunger builds and builds until there’s something like a trigger, and then they can’t resist. They’ll go after any food nearby until they’re sated.”

“That’s what happened?” Manolo directed it towards Joaquin. Joaquin glanced up briefly, and gave a small nod.

“I hadn’t eaten in a week, almost two.” He admitted quietly. “It’s not easy to eat when I’m in the public eye.”

“ _Two weeks?_ ” Manolo echoed incredulously. Joaquin shrugged.

“That’s about as long as I can go, yeah.”

“Lord, no wonder you went wild down there.” Manolo shook his head in amazement.

“Exactly.” Maria nodded, words becoming pointed. “Which is why he should _stop blaming himself_ for an accident.”

Joaquin flinched. Manolo looked at Maria expectantly.

"He went after all the coyotes, yes, but once they were taken care of he got a whiff of my scratches. He went after me, but he didn't really hurt me." She explained. "He just drank what was already bleeding, and he didn't bite or hit me with bloodrush--the euphoria he told you about--and he let me push him away."

Well, that didn't seem too bad. It wasn't an ideal situation to begin with, so the fact that it had happened at all just seemed to be a stroke of bad luck.

"I'm still not sure what that was, so don't just say I _let_ you push me off." Joaquin said, tone a little harsh. "I still think it was a lucky break that I didn't _kill_ you."

"And I still believe it's because you have more control than you think." Maria fired back.

"Even if I do, it's still all fucked up from the medal." Joaquin snapped. Both Manolo and Maria froze. The Medal of Everlasting Life? What did that have to do with Joaquin's vampirism? They both fixed their husband with expectant looks and Joaquin grumbled.

"Damn my mouth," he cursed, before taking a breath. "The medal protected me, made me invincible, you know that. But, I don't know, it wasn't _good_. I mean, you saw the damn thing it didn't even _look_ good. It fucked with my head. It didn't ruin my control at first, so I didn't think much of it, but...it messed with my morals. My limits. It fed into my aggressiveness, my ambition, my desires. Maybe I'd take down a bandit, or a whole gang, and..." He shuddered. "The medal made me think it was fine, that they deserved it. And it _rationalized_ it. Human blood gives me more energy than animal blood, so then I'd have more strength to go after more bad guys. Win-win."

"What a twisted sense of heroism." He muttered bitterly. "I didn't realize how messed up it made me until--until you died. I was drawing my sword on _you_ , of all people, that’s when I realized something was wrong with me. And--then you died..."

Joaquin's voice faded at that. Manolo frowned, remembering the soldier's cruel last words to him before he went back to the tree. But all three of them had spent several nights talking about that day, their actions. Manolo had long since forgiven Joaquin--after all, Joaquin had been heart-broken and grieving and lashing out, and had had no clue what Manolo's mental state was, what he would do if left alone. And Manolo wasn't without blame either: he never should have listened to Xibalba, he knew that now. But everyone knew everything in hindsight.

"I'll always regret taking that thing." Joaquin sighed. "But...I suppose if I didn't, I wouldn't be alive."

This was something they had already discussed as well. All three of them were torn about the Medal. None of them would be alive without it, but half of the trouble in their lives had been caused by it.

"But you don't have the medal anymore, Joaquin." Maria pointed out. "You shouldn't be feeling it's effects anymore."

"Preaching to the choir, Maria. It shouldn't be there, I know that, but it is. I can feel it. It feeds on the worst the things in me. Messes with me, tells me to do things I know I shouldn't. Makes me feel like I'm going insane." There was a desperate, frightened edge to the soldier's voice. Manolo could see the tremble in his hands, and more than ever he wished he could take them in his own like Maria's.

"I promised you we would help you Joaquin." Maria reached out to touch Joaquin's knee--in the boat that was really all she could do. "And we're going to, in whatever way we can."

Joaquin smiled faintly.

"Gracias." The smile faded. “I, ah...I suppose it’s my turn to explain everything, what with the direction we seem to be going in.”

“You don’t have to.” Manolo offered. Joaquin already looked tortured enough. Maria nodded beside him, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no, it’s ok. Maria told her story, it’s only fair that I tell mine.”

“What's to tell? Manolo was with you for it, and you’ve boys have done a brilliant job of filling me in on your antics.” Maria chimed in. Manolo smiled at that, of the memory of the three of them, Joaquin and Manolo reenacting adventure after childhood adventure at some ungodly hour of the night and Maria, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Even Joaquin huffed a little at the memory.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He said. “Maybe you guys can, uh...just shoot questions, and I’ll answer? I’m not sure if it’s even worth it, since Maria seems to know more about me than I do.”

“That’s not true. I know about dhampirs,” Maria allowed and Manolo noticed something, almost imperceptible, but there. A little flinch in the soldier’s shoulders, perhaps, but it was too fleeting for him to be sure. “Joaquin, but you’re _you_. Just because I know a few fancy words for some of the things you do doesn’t mean I know what your life has been like for...well _ever_.” Maria shook her head. “I mean, what was it like being with us when we were kids?”

“Not too bad, actually,” Joaquin said, “with Alfredo taking care of me. Mostly just drank chickens, and I drank often. Human blood didn’t bother me really, because I was never hungry enough to bother.”

“What about the sun? You’d play with us all day.” Manolo asked. Joaquin also answered that easily.

“Well, because I’m only half vampire, my reaction to the sunlight isn’t as bad. Basically I get sunburned really easily, and other than that it just kind of drains my energy. Once I had the medal, I didn’t have to worry about it at all.”

“But what about now?”

“I wear clothes, don’t I? I keep to the shadows when I can. I wear hats. Worst comes to worst, I can pass it off as a sunburn.” As Joaquin continued, some of his bravado seemed to be returning. Maybe it was because he could answer their questions confidently. “I suppose it’ll be harder for me to cross the desert when I start travelling again, without the medal and all.”

Manolo shifted uncomfortably. Joaquin’s adamancy at travelling again once he had gotten accustomed to having one eye tied knots in his stomach. It always bothered him when Joaquin left--because back then he hadn’t known the soldier was invincible, and now he _knew_ the soldier wasn’t invincible.

“You drink the blood of animals, but I’ve seen you eat regular food too. I’m guessing it’s to, you know, maintain appearances, but does it actually do anything for you?” He asked.

“Ah, no.” Joaquin shook his head. He smiled apologetically. “It’s basically the equivalent of eating dirt. No nutritional value whatsoever.”

“So all those times you praised our cooking...?” Maria raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no, that was genuine.” Joaquin rushed to placate her. “I can smell all the ingredients fine, so I’m actually pretty good at smelling when something’s good or not. I’m a pretty good cook myself--the best out of the other men, at least...I’m not sure if that’s really saying much.” He admitted. All three chuckled.

“But what about coconuts? Those can’t be a lie.” Manolo kept going. Joaquin huffed a small laugh.

“Well, they are the best tasting human food I’ve ever had. Like...um...like tofu can be a substitute for meat.” Joaquin shrugged. “I don’t know why, but it tastes so close to blood that I can almost feel like I’m actually eating. I’m not, but sometimes I do it to trick myself into thinking I have. That way I can go without for longer. It also…” He paused a little, and he started to avoid eye contact again. “It also makes me feel more normal. Human. Not as much a monster.”

Manolo gritted his teeth. _Again_ with the monster mentality! His lovers weren’t monsters, and they shouldn’t think of themselves as ones!

Maria sighed beside him.

“He doesn’t like it when you use that word.” She warned Joaquin.

“You shouldn’t be using it at all!” Manolo cried, “You’re not monsters!”

“Manny, you don’t know what I’ve done.” Joaquin frowned. “If you knew about some of it you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“ _What_? _What_ could you have done in the _rare_ times you and I were apart?” Manolo argued, irritated at Joaquin’s self-loathing. Manolo _hated_ that it something still torturing the man; it was something he had experienced, for so long, and he couldn’t just let someone he loved suffer the same way. “You were off for at most, what? Three years, and you still visited in that time. So _what_ could have happened, Joaquin?”

“ _A lot_ , Manolo!” Joaquin snapped. The oars splashed and the boat rocked a little. Manolo felt the grip on his hand tighten--a warning from Maria, to calm down before they started full-on fighting. But irritation was still swirling in him, overtaking his rationality.

“Well, you know what? I don’t care about it, Joaquin. I don’t give a shit what happened, because we are _here_ and _now_ and that’s what matters!” He said angrily, voice growing louder. “You are _not a monster!_ ”

“If I’m not a monster then what am I?” Joaquin yelled back. “What am I then, Manolo? Please enlighten me, I would love to hear it!”

“Boys please.” Maria groaned under her breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You’re--you’re different, that’s all!” Manolo wouldn’t admit that the soldier’s question did stump him a little bit. Joaquin scoffed without humor.

“Haha! Different. Just ‘different’. That just perfectly describes the fact that I have _killed people_. I have hurt people in the _worst_ way I know how to, but sure, let’s call that different. _Bullshit_ , Manolo!”

Okay...that struck him. Manolo remembered the soldier's earlier words. _I've already seen it happen once to someone I love and I refuse to let it happen again_. What... _had_ Joaquin done? Whatever it was, Manolo couldn't imagine it. He couldn't picture the Hero of San Ángel, the man he loved, doing anything that would warrant the label _monster_. Either way, Joaquin was still shaking, and they had stopped rowing, and Manolo wanted to keep fighting but he didn’t know what to say. He had the feeling that if Joaquin had the option, he would storm off right about now. As it were, their anger simmered between them. Maria sighed.

“Joaquin…” She tried gently.

“ _No_.” The man bit. “I’m not going to explain right now so _don’t even try._ ”

That triggered an exasperated sigh from the woman, and a roll of her eyes. She settled back on Manolo’s shoulder. Manolo glared at the lake water and gritted his teeth. Joaquin began to row again. They were almost home.

“Can you turn into a bat?” Manolo growled eventually, fed up with the silence.

“No.” Joaquin answered stiffly.

“Does garlic ‘repel’ you?” Okay, maybe he didn’t quite keep the patronizing tone out of his voice.

“Makes me sneeze, but otherwise no. Why, got some special _plans_ when we get back?” Joaquin smiled, but it was by no means friendly.

“What about crucifixes?”

“Skin gets itchy, nothing too bad, sorry. And I think you are well aware of how _fine_ I am in churches.” Joaquin snipped.

“Sleep in a coffin?”

“Isn’t that more _your_ style, as of la--”

“ _Oh! My! God!_ ” Maria yelled through her teeth, shooting upright. Ohhhh that was not a good tone of voice to hear from her. She glared at the both of them.

“ _You. Both. Suck!_ ”

Both men were stricken silent and still by her rage, which seemed perfectly fine by her. She was not finished yelling.

“We just nearly _died_ and all you two can do is fucking fight? What is in your thick heads that compels you to smash them together so often!? We are _wounded_ and _stressed_ and _exhausted_ and you think this a rational time to be discussing our own _moralities_? Can you pull your heads out of your own asses for one goddamn _minute_?” She berated, gesturing wildly. “What has happened the past two nights? Is _not_ going to be fixed by a conversation in a boat, and it is certainly _not_ going to be fixed by you two acting like _fools_!”

She turned specifically to Manolo.

“You are not some sort of doctor! You can’t just fix us and our problems with a few loving words! That takes time, and I mean _time_. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but just because you tell either of us something doesn’t mean it’s going to magically change, it doesn’t work like that. We all wish it did, but it fucking doesn’t.”

She turned to Joaquin.

“And _you_. I understand that you have problems, I understand because I _share_ some of them. What you need to understand is that, whether you like it or not, if we want to have a loving, trusting, _working_ relationship, a lot of _shit_ is going to have to come out in the open. Maybe not now, maybe not later. But _eventually_. And _please_ , por el amor de Dios, _understand_ that we are just trying to _also_ understand, and we are _just trying to help_!”

Her voice cracked at that last part, and even she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t crying, or shaking. But she shied away when Manolo tentatively reached out for her.

“No, don’t.” Her voice had quieted considerably. She curled in on herself a little, head dropping like there was no strength to keep it up, hair falling around her like a curtain. “I’m too exhausted for this. Yo no puedo hacerlo.”

Manolo’s hand dropped into his lap, and he looked away. She was right after all. He had been pushing too hard. He shouldn’t be surprised that Joaquin pushed back. Slowly the rowing picked up again, and with it all the rage seemed to fly out of the boat, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake. Manolo slumped a little.

“I’m sorry.” Joaquin said first. He kept his eye down. “I’m not used to sharing so much. And that coffin line was really shitty of me, so I’m sorry for that too.”

“I’m sorry too. I should have backed off. We’ve all been through the wringer these last two nights, and that’s pretty much my fault.”

“No it isn’t.” Joaquin looked up, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, if I hadn’t overreacted and stormed off like that I never would have fallen down the cave and we’d all be fine. Well, fin _er_ , I suppose.” Manolo shrugged. There wasn’t much emotion in his voice except fatigue.

“Overreact? Manolo, what you did was completely natural. I mean, you just found out we were m--” Joaquin cut himself off, but Manolo still grimaced. The word still bothered him. “--that we weren’t what you thought we were. Your world was just turned completely upside-down. If you hadn’t stormed off I think I’d have been worried. I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if someone broke my trust like that...I’m sorry for that too, by the way. I should have trusted you, Manolo.”

“I understand why you couldn’t. It hurts, but I get it.” Manolo smiled tiredly. He sighed. “Still, if I hadn’t--”

“If I had told you I was a werewolf we wouldn’t be in this mess at all. At this point there’s no use in blaming ourselves. It’s over and done with.” Maria mumbled. Without lifting her head she turned and buried herself in Manolo’s lap, arms wrapping around his waist.

“I don’t ever want you to feel like your emotions are invalid, Manolo.” She added, though it was greatly muffled. Almost instinctively his hand fell to stroke her hair. It was a complete mess from all that had happened, but it was soft.

“Thank you.” He said, and he meant it. Joaquin nodded, making it clear he meant the same thing as Maria, and Manolo smile wider. “Thank you both.”

Maria sighed in his lap.

“Are we home yet?”

Unfortunately it was another half-hour before the trio made it to the docks. In fact, by the time all three of them had been attended to (Maria passing out twice during the process, especially when she was taking a bath, which was insisted upon by the doctor to help clean her injuries), it was late into the night.

Maria practically collapsed into the bed when she was finally able to, doctors and soldiers and her father gone from the house (that was a challenge in and of itself, as the man was adamant on an explanation for what Maria was doing out in the Trampa, an explanation she was too tired to come up with just yet. In the end it was the doctors who shooed him out, ordering that the need for rest was more important, and that explanations could wait). She wordlessly inched her way over to where Manolo was already situated, leg properly set and splinted and propped up on a pillow. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open himself, and when Maria snuggled up to him it was even harder. She was so warm, and he was so tired...but someone was missing.

True to form, Joaquin peeked in, unsure as to whether he could or not. His head was wrapped lightly with bandages, as were a few spots on his arms, legs, and chest, where Manolo couldn’t see. The soldier’s voice was heavy with his own exhaustion.

“Hey guys...uh...I’m probably gonna head home now, let you guys get some rest.”

Manolo frowned. “No.”

“What?” Joaquin tilted his head. Manolo patted the bed on the other side of Maria. Not an easy feat. Most of his arm was pinned down by her.

“Sleep here tonight.”

Even tired, the soldier still blushed.

“Wha--no, no, Manny that’s--the town--”

“For all they know you slept in the guest room. Come on, marido.” He patted the bed again.

“Still, it’s just--for me--and you guys--” Joaquin fumbled, blushing harder. Maria rolled over a little and raised her hands in a child-like grabby motion. Her eyes weren’t even open.

“You just ate, Joaquin. You should be fine with us, you’re not hungry anymore.” Manolo pointed out. Maria repeated the grabby-hands gesture.

“Yes but--I--uh--um, okay.” The soldier mumbled, nervously shuffling into the room and closing the the door behind him.

“Could you blow out the candles, please?” Manolo asked, shifting a little to get more comfortable, happy now that Joaquin was joining them.

“Uh, yeah, ‘course.”

As the room became darker and darker, Manolo couldn’t stop his eyes from slipping shut. But he opened them again when the bed dipped. Joaquin was very warily climbing into the bed, awkward and shy and--Manolo couldn’t help but think--adorable. But the soldier was on the other side of the bed, as far away from the others as he could be.

Maria wouldn’t stand for that. As soon as Joaquin appeared settled she abandoned Manolo and wrapped herself around the Joaquin, making the poor man jump a little.

“M-maria…”

No use. Maria shimmied and wiggled until she had essentially dragged him over, sandwiching herself between him and Manolo. All of this without a single sound. Manolo giggled. He wrapped his arm behind Maria’s head and under Joaquin’s, the man lifting his head for him before laying back down. Tentatively an arm found its way across Maria and to Manolo--he tugged it so it was across his waist as well. He threaded his finger’s through Joaquin’s. They were tense--Joaquin hadn’t relaxed yet, he was too nervous. Manolo turned his head so he was facing Joaquin: he couldn’t see his husband, but he knew his husband could see him.

“Te amo, Joaquin.” He said gently, eyes closing again. “No matter what.”

“...Te amo, Manolo.” Joaquin replied in equal quietness. “No matter what.”

Maria shifted between them.

“Mmnmnhsmshm…” She sighed. Manolo bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Te amo, Maria, no matter what.” He whispered to her. He could barely hear it, but Joaquin whispered it to her as well. After that, he was content to finally _finally_ fall asleep. He fell asleep knowing in his hardest of hearts that he loved his spouses, and they loved him.

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the project that has consumed all of my free time for the past month. Werewolf AND vampire AU! Double trouble! Ah...I couldn't resist. What better au to get into the spirit of halloween with? ;)  
> As always, my Spanish and German come mostly from Google Translate, so if there are any errors please let me know and I will be happy to fix them!  
> Hope you enjoyed!


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